


Phantom Limb

by Nuggalolisk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Amputation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends, Explosions, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Neighbors to Friends, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence, and then, let men be affectionate 2018, they're kind of a rollercoaster of relationships okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuggalolisk/pseuds/Nuggalolisk
Summary: They say life as you know it can change in a moment. An explosion, a kiss, a death.For Cullen Rutherford, that statement was true through and through. After an explosion at the Capitol Building in Denerim, the pieces of Cullen's life scattered on the wind. With the help of his friends, he begins to put it back together again. Yet sailing the ever-changing currents prove more difficult than he ever could have imagined.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is inspired by a good friend of mine who is writing a similar rp with her good friend. The two had no plans to publish it anywhere, so I asked if I could. Only I'm giving Cullen a much happier ending. I thought I would throw out this first chapter/prologue to see if anyone would be interested in something like this. I'll add more tags the further along the story gets. 
> 
> Also, I'm experimenting with the text messages added in. Does anybody have any strong negative emotions about that? It's my first time doing it, but I don't want it to throw anyone out of the story.
> 
> And I just realized I spelled Rylen's name wrong in the second text image lol. I'm not fixing it. Those things are a pain to make.

 

 

* * *

_Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No, body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?_

_Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…_

~

            “Cullen! Cullen, stop fighting. Hold on. Hold on they’re getting it out.”

Something was in his throat. _Maker it hurts._ There were hands on his face, pushing his hair back, holding his arms down. Maker, the pain. He tried to push the hands away, but he could barely lift his arms.

            “Cullen, listen to me!”

_Cassandra. Cassandra, why can’t I talk? What is this? What’s happening?_

            Hands stroked over his face, cupped his cheeks.

            “You’re in the hospital, Cullen. There’s a breathing tube in your throat to help you breathe. They’re going to take it out, but you have to stop squirming.”

            “I can’t do this. I can’t be here for this.”

_Celia? Celia!_

            “Cullen, I’m going to pull the tube out. Okay? I’m going to pull it out on the count on the count of three and I need you to breathe out when I do, okay? Okay, here we go, one, two, three.”

            He exhaled and the tube was pulled out of this throat. He coughed as dragged up and out. It felt like they had wrapped razor wire around it. The first cough was painful and he felt tears leak out of the corner of his eyes.

            “Good job, Cullen. Good. Cough again for me.”

            Fading. He was fading again, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

            “Cullen?”

~

            Maker, his head _hurt._ His face hurt. _Fuck_ , his whole body hurt. He opened his eyes to see where he was and promptly closed them again. The light was so bright it nearly blinded him. From what he could see in the few seconds his eyes were open, he was in a hospital: white walls, white sheets, an incessant beeping noise.

            _Find the call button. Makers, balls._

            He pushed it weekly, kept his thumb on it until he heard the quiet steps of a nurse.

            “Sir, can you hear me?”

            He cracked his eyes open and squinted before closing them again. Blessedly, the young woman flipped an overhead light off.

            “Can you open your eyes for me?”

            Cullen slowly slid them open again, thankful that the room was darker than it was before. A pleasant looking nurse leaned over him: she had light blue eyes and an intricate vallasin across her features.

            She smiled at him. “Good. My name is Rachel. Can you tell me your name?”

            He grimaced when he tried to work his vocal chords. His throat was raw like he had swallowed razor blades.

            “Here, try some water.” She pressed a straw to his lips. “Careful of your stitches.”

            Cullen drank nearly half the cup before she pulled it away.

            “Can you tell me your name?”

            “Cullen Rutherford,” he answered, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the pillow.

            “Do you know where you are?”

            “Hospital.” _Makers balls, my head hurts._

“Do you know what happened to you?”

            _Explosion. Blood. Dust. Ringing. Pain._

            “Where is Celia? My fiancé, is she here?”

            The nurse frowned and pressed the straw to his lips again. “She hasn’t been in today. I’ll call her though and let her know you’re awake. How’s your pain?”

            “Seven.”

            “Okay. I’ll go and let the doctor know you’re awake.”

            She left so quietly that he barely noticed. The only sign she was ever there was the faint smell of her perfume: lilacs and mint.

            There was a scratching against his gums. He ran his tongue between his upper lip and his raw gums and felt sharp spines. Stitches. The nurse had mentioned he had stitches. Judging from the feeling it was deep. He turned his head and squinted at the dim light coming through the window: it was dismally stormy outside. Celia hated the rain. Maybe that was why she wasn’t there.

            “Ah, Mr. Rutherford, good to see you’re awake,” the doctor spoke quietly as he entered.

            The man was Cullen’s age, or appeared to be. His auburn hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved nor slept in a week. He was tall enough his head almost reached the doorframe and his build appeared to be athletic. The smile he flashed Cullen was bright and genuine.

            “My name is Anders. I’m your doctor. I’d like to do a quick exam before we do anything else.”

            Cullen gave an affirming ‘hm’ instead of a nod. His head throbbed with every movement he gave. Anders walked to him, as quietly as he could, and shined a small penlight into his eyes: it was too bright and Cullen had to resist turning his head away. He followed the pen as he was supposed to, touched his fingers to his nose and then to Anders’s fingers, counted back from one hundred by threes.

            “Okay,” Anders smiled, “good. I’d still like to get another c.t before you leave. Just as a precaution.”

            Anders wheeled a chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat with his back facing the door. His long legs crossed at the knee and he placed Cullen’s chart on them.

            “You were brought in last Monday. About nine days ago. You had been in an explosion at the capital building. Do you remember that?” He paused so Cullen could confirm. “You sustained a lot of injuries during the blast. Your left shoulder was dislocated severely. Surgery was performed to repair it. You’ll have to attend physical therapy once a week for a month or so. But you’ll gain full range of motion back. A piece of shrapnel hit you here,” he gestured to his own upper lip, “so you have fourteen stitches on the outside and nine on the inside. A nurse will apply bacitracin on the inside of your lip three times a day. That should help with irritation.” He flipped through the chair on his lap again and pursed his lips.

            “You have bruised ribs, so we have some lovely breathing exercises for you to do to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia. You have some lacerations, but nothing life-threatening. Only a few of those have stitches.”

            “And my leg?” Cullen asked him.

            The young doctor frowned and took a deep breath in. “Mr. Rutherford, we won’t know for sure–”

            “Don’t bullshit me, Doctor,” he growled. “I’m in pain and I just want the truth.”

            “Okay,” Anders nodded, “Okay. The blast injured your leg severely. There’s extensive nerve damage as well as damaged to the tendons and ligaments. You’ll need several nerve grafts and skin grafts. If I can repair–”

            “If?” Cullen interrupted him with a gruff tone.

            Anders nodded and shifted in his seat. “Yes. If I can repair it, you’ll need months of physical therapy. Even with that, you may never walk the same again. You could need a cane for the rest of your life.”

            “And if you can’t repair it?”

            Cullen was afraid to ask the question. There was a growing pit in his stomach: a black hole devouring him from the inside out. Lightning struck somewhere in the city and the sky lit up before going dark again.

            “We can focus on that when it comes to it.”

            Anders was avoiding the question.

            “No, we’ll focus on it now.”

            Anders pursed his lips and studied the man in front of him: Cullen’s face was hard, his eyes narrowed in defiance. He was putting on the airs of a commander.

            “If the damage to your leg cannot be repaired, if it rejects the grafts, amputation will be the next step.”

            Cullen sat stiffly and unmoving. His heart thundered in his chest, his stomach rolled and clenched, bile rose in his throat. Anders was still talking to him, but his ears were filled with cotton. Amputation. He would lose the leg and even if he didn’t, he would never be able to return to active duty.

            His face was burning, but there was a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Breathing was becoming even more restricted. Cullen was shaking, his limbs no longer under his control.

            “Cullen, I need you to take a breath,” Anders instructed firmly.

            Except Cullen couldn’t take a breath. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move.

            “Cullen?” a soft voice asked from the doorway.

            He looked up, found Celia standing in the doorway. One of her arms was wrapped around her stomach, the hand gripping her upper arm. She looked perfect. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, makeup freshly applied and untouched by the rain. Even the jeans she was wearing looked as if she had ironed them. No matter how put together she looked, Cullen could see the fear in her large eyes.

            “Celia,” he breathed in relief.

            Cullen held his hand out for her. She hesitated for a few moments before she went to stand on the opposite side of the bed of Anders. Her lithe hands were kept by her sides. Cullen reached for one, but she stayed out of reach, no looking at him. His heart clenched tightly and he looked away from her.

            “Cullen, as I said, amputation is a last resort. We will do everything we can to ensure that.”

            “Amputation?” Celia snapped her brown eyes to Anders in shock. “Cullen, did he say amputation?”

            She finally looked at him then. He made sure to watch her face carefully: noticing every twitch every shift in her body language. Her brows were cinched together, lips drawn together in a pout, her hands were clenching her purse now.

            “I know you’re scared for your fiancé, but I assure you, we are doing everything we can. It’s going to be a long road and it won’t be easy. You’re going to need each other for support.” Anders stood and made a note in Cullen’s chart. “I’ll up your pain meds for now and check on you again before I leave, okay?”

            Cullen nodded and then stopped Anders. “Doctor? I don’t want to be on narcotics.”

            Anders frowned and studied Cullen. “I’m afraid the pain would only be worse off of them, Cullen.”

            “I’m an ex-templar. I don’t need a new addiction.”

            “You were never addicted, Cullen,” Celia huffed and straightened her already straight hair.

            “I was. And I don’t wish a new one. I can handle the pain.”

            Anders was quiet for a few moments before he nodded. “Okay. I’ll let the nurses no and amend your chart. If you change your mind, please let me know. These surgeries we have planned will be painful.”

            Cullen nodded and watched Anders leave the room, closing the door softly behind him. Then, against his will, his eyes focused on his leg beneath the blanket. What did it look like? Was it bruised? Maybe swollen and red? He wanted to rip the white blanket back and look, but at the same time was terrified to do so.

            “You weren’t here,” he finally said, “when I woke up.”

            Celia turned away from him and laid her purse on the couch. In true Celia fashion, she busied herself straightening the room.

            “I went to work. You were out for a while.” She flipped the lights on. “I didn’t see the point of me being here.”

            Cullen flinched at the sudden the sudden light and quickly threw a hand over his eyes.

            “Celia, darling, the lights. Can you turn them off? My head is splitting.”

            She sighed. “It’s just so dark in here, Cullen.”

            He couldn’t open his eyes to look at her, but he knew the look she had on her face. Disappointment. Still, even behind his hand, the light crept in and burned into his retinas. There was an icepick driving its way into the flesh behind his eyes.

            “Celia, please,” he gasped.

            Finally, blessedly, the light vanished with a click. Cullen released a breath slowly and moved his hand from his eyes. His bloodshot amber eyes found Celia sitting on the couch. She was watching him carefully, her eyes hyper-focusing on his legs. Had she seen them before they were covered? When they brought him in perhaps?

            “Come here,” he whispered to her.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Cullen frowned and reached his hand out to her. “You aren’t going to hurt me. Please, come here.”

            Slowly, very slowly, Celia stood up from the couch. Her high-heels clicked on the tile as she made her way over to him. When she finally reached the edge of the bed, Cullen picked up her manicured hand and kissed the back of it gently. A new pain bloomed in his lip, but he ignored it.

            “I know you’re scared. I am too,” he whispered. “But we can get through this together. Prosthetics–”

            Suddenly, she pulled her hand from him and stepped away from the bed.

            “They are not amputating your leg.”

            “Celia,” he started but then lost his words.

            “No. They’ll be able to fix it and you’ll go back to normal.”

            _Normal_. The way she said it made his skin feel too tight. Normal. In some way, he knew what she meant. Yet at the back of his mind he knew that if he lost his leg, she would view him as less than. Cullen would never be ‘normal’ again. No one goes through something like he did and still come out of it normal.

            “Has Leliana or Cassandra been in touch about what happened?” he asked her.

            Celia made a noise in her throat and turned away from him. “I don’t want to talk about that, Cullen. I just want to forget it happened.”

            “Forget it happened,” he parroted back.

            “Yes,” she straightened her already perfect hair, “I just want to put it behind us and move forward.” She looked back at him with a frown. “Can’t we do that?”

            _No,_ he wanted to say. _No, we can’t do that. We can’t put it all behind us because I am still living it._

            “I,” she hesitated. “I have to get back to work. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

            She stepped over to him and quickly kissed him on the forehead. Before he could say anything to her, she was out of the room and halfway down the hall. It suddenly felt like there was a hole in his chest. He could feel her pulling away from him. Like autumn fading away into winter: you could see it coming, could feel it in your bones, but nothing can stop it. In a way, he understood. Celia had been through a trauma too. He could have died and she could have lost him. She almost did lose him. It was her right to be scared.

            As soon as he closed his eyes again, sleep overtook him. Deep, dark, dreamless sleep.

~

            “No Celia, today?” Rachel asked as she changed the bandage on Cullen’s chest.

            “No,” he answered and looked up at the ceiling. “No, she’s back at work. I can’t fault her for that.”

            Rachel nodded. “Will she be here for the surgery today?”

            The tape stung when she peeled it off of his skin.

            “I, uh, I’m not sure. We didn’t really talk about it. This stuff kind of upsets her.” There was a moment of tense silence. “I understand though,” he rushed to Celia’s defense. “Dating me is a lot. This is a lot. No one expects their fiancé to get blown up.”

            The elvish woman carefully applied salve to the wound. “No one expects to get blown up either.”

            Rachel made a very good point. But Celia was just scared. Cullen knew she still loved him a great deal. Celia never asked him to put his career on hold for her, why should he ask that of her? It wouldn’t be fair of him to ask her to give up everything to sit by his bedside while he recovered. Besides all that, it wasn’t as if he was recovering alone. Cassandra and Leliana stopped by frequently to let him know updates on the investigation, and to check up on him. Josephine stopped by twice a day to check on him and to ask Anders important questions that Cullen didn’t always ask. Varric brought by food that wasn’t hospital food. The dwarf even brought by food that morning. Even though it was promptly taken away by nurses.

            “Cullen,” Rachel finished the dressing and put her hands on her hips, “are you sure you don’t want me to call your family?”

            Pale light filtered through the window parallel to his bed. Another stormy day of fall weather. All that rain could ruin a crime scene; like a flood wiping out an entire town, they could lose everything. There were no leads: it was as if a ghost planted the bomb. His family would have questions. One of them would be, ‘who did this?’ And he wouldn’t have an answer for them. If he called them, they would worry and fly out eight hours to be with him. And then they would never leave. His family weren’t rich nobles. They were poor farmers who couldn’t afford to take time off. Especially since he found himself no longer able to send money back to them. Cullen would already be tapping into his nest egg.

            “Cullen?”

            “Forgive me. My thoughts got the better of me. I’m sure, Rachel. I don’t want to worry them.”

            She sighed and tossed her blonde hair out of her face. “All I’m saying is that if you were my brother, I’d want to be here with you. And I would be beyond pissed if I knew you had surgery and didn’t tell me. If I knew you had been in a bombing and didn’t tell me,” she made an angry sound in her throat.

            Mia _would_ be furious with him. Hell, they all would. He should call them. They were bound to see the news. Or maybe that hadn’t. The black phone Leliana had bought him hadn’t rung once. Cassandra hadn’t mentioned fielding any calls form them, nor had anyone else. Celia was unlikely to answer her phone. He should call them.

            Rachel left him shortly after to tend to her other patients. She was an incredibly kind woman. He enjoyed the fact that she said exactly what she was thinking. Grateful, he was grateful for it. This was the second surgery of many. There was no definitive word on how the first surgery went, but Rachel told him she felt positive about it.

            Positivity: that was something nearly every doctor he saw discouraged against. Hope was a dangerous thing in the medical field. They told him to prepare himself for the possibility of losing his leg. Rejoice in the healing process and how well he was doing, but to accept that it could get worse or stagnate. Hope had no place in a hospital. His few weeks spent in the CCU he learned quickly that situations could one-eighty in a matter of hours. Patients who were stable suddenly got worse. Patients who were circling the drain before could make a miraculous recovery. Cullen wondered which one he would be.

            With a sigh he picked up the new phone: it had a thick black leather case Leliana had picked out for him. It was a much newer phone than the brick of a flip phone he’d had since training. It was a good and loyal phone. One that got him teased endlessly. The new phone opened upon seeing his face. It was interesting if at the same time completely unnerving. He had seen too many sci-fi/ a.i movies in his youth to not be worried. Cullen had asked Celia if she could pick him up a new phone. Instead, Leliana had come in with one.

            It was getting harder and harder for Cullen to keep making excuses for Celia and her behavior. Cullen was just as scared, just as anxious for himself be out of the hospital as she was. As much as he didn’t want to tell her, Cullen needed her there. He needed the woman he loved to be there for him.

            His jaw clenched. She couldn’t “deal with all of _this_ right now.” She couldn’t deal with it. He kept repeating the line over and over in his head like a cd that skipped. The vow he made early to be understanding was starting to splinter. He was at risk of losing his fucking leg and the woman he loved couldn’t handle it enough to be there for him. She couldn’t handle it! How, in the Maker’s name, did she think he could? The waters were surrounding him and he was sinking fast into the abyss.

            The urge to text her back and yell was so overwhelming that his hands shook. Instead, he locked his phone and set it back on the stand beside his bed. An ambulance pulled into the emergency bay. Its sirens mimicked those in his own head. The tick in his jaw was coming back full force.

            “My,” Leliana said from the doorway, “you look absolutely fetching when you’re angry, Cullen.”

            The glare he cast to her wasn’t meant for her, not really. It _was_ meant for the general shit situation he found himself in.

            “Problems with Celia?” she asked, depositing herself in the chair beside his bed.

            Cullen rubbed his face, hissing when he made contact with his sutures.

            “She isn’t coming for the surgery,” he growled out. “She says she can’t ‘deal with all of this’.”

            He wanted to break something. His fist had the divine urge to go through a window or a wall.

            Leliana raised an eyebrow and crossed her legs. “She said that?”

            Cullen unlocked his phone again and passed it to Leliana. He turned his eyes back to the ceiling when it was in her hands and proceeded to count the 576 specks in the ceiling tile above his bed. He curled his fist tighter at the fresh wash of pain through his leg. Pain was a good sign, Anders said. The nerve grafts were taking.

            After a few moments of quiet reading, Leliana set the phone back down.

            “She has been very distant, no?”        

            Cullen sighed. “How is the case going?”

            Deflection. And Leliana was likely to see right through it.

            “It’s going. We are still combing the scene. So far we have found 12 fragments of the device we think was used. What is most unnerving,” she added coolly, “is that no group has come forward to claim this attack.”

            That was strange. Normally, terrorist groups were rushing to lay claim to something of that magnitude. The fact that not one was leaping forward to take the glory meant that something deeper was happening.

            “His Majesty wants to gift you with the Medal of Ferelden.”

            Cullen snapped his head to look at her smirking face. “For what?”

            Leliana chuckled and leaned back in her seat. “For your heroism, Cullen.”

            The Lion of Ferelden rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I hardly consider being blown up heroism. He should give the medal to Jim,” Cullen added. “Jim was the one who found me first. He triaged me and eight other people. Are they giving medals now for simply surviving?”  

            Leliana laughed and put a hand on her cheek. “You sound like one of those old people. You know,” she gestured, “the ones who complain because kids get medals just for participating.”

            Culled chuckled and rubbed his eyes. She was right: he was sounding more and more like the people he hated when he was growing up. Part of that he chalked up to the pain, the other, his frustration with Celia.

            “Are you still refusing pain medication?” Leliana picked up his chart and started to flip through it.

            “Yes. I don’t need a new addiction, Leli. I’m taking pain medication, just not narcotics.”

            Ever since he had stopped taking lyrium, he had strayed away from narcotics. The last thing he needed was something else to become addicted to. Many former templars who attempted to quit lyrium were often prescribed narcotics for the pain. And then they often became leashed to a new lord and master. It was not a life Cullen was willing to go back to.

            “You’re one my dearest friends, Cullen. I only want to make sure you aren’t taking on more than you can handle.”

            She reached out and took his hand in hers. Cullen squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled at her. The two friends had been through a lot together. Leliana had seen him through withdrawals. Not once did she ever leave his side. The Orlesian woman had seen Cullen in every horrible moment of his past. Yet still, she stayed his friend through it all. And there she was again, sitting by his bedside.

            A short time later, a young nurse came in and stood quietly just inside the door.

            “Mr. Rutherford?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m here to take you up for surgery now.”

            Cullen nodded to him and kissed the back of Leliana’s hand. “I will be fine,” he whispered.

            “Cassandra is going to be so angry she did not get to wish you luck.” Leliana smiled and stood up. “I did tell her traffic was blocked on 45th.”

            Cullen smiled and let the young man get him ready. “She never listens.”

            Leliana walked with him to the surgical wing doors. There was a tense silence along the way. Neither knew what exactly to say to the others. Words of comfort would feel empty when they were both worried and the future was so unsteady.

            “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Leliana called after him, pressed a hand to her lips, and briefly reached out to him.

~

            Bright lights shone down over him, nearly blinding in their intensity. Someone was talking to him, touching him, monitors were beeping, someone was crying, someone was throwing up.

            _Maker, these lights._

            “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

            “Rutherford,” he croaked.

            “Mr. Rutherford, you’re in the recovery room. We’ll take you back to your room soon.”

            He wanted to ask how the surgery went but his jaw felt so heavy. The edges of his vision were fading to black; his eyelids felt heavy and inoperable. It was a losing battle to stay awake, but he struggled to win. All his brain wanted was to rest for a time.

            “Rest, Mr. Rutherford. Rest.”

~

            Sometime later, he awoke in what he assumed was his hospital room. Rain was slamming against the large windows across from his bed. The light outside had shifted, darkened the room to a faint blue hue. The only light that broke through was from the partially opened bathroom door. He felt sweat roll down his temples, even though his forehead was freezing.

            “Cullen?”

            Leliana. He turned his head slowly to find her: the movement felt like he was a four-month-old baby trying to get control of their neck and large head. His throat ached and he groaned out what he hoped was her name. Her warm hand stroked over his forehead and he leaned into the touch. His quiet whimper barely reached her ears.

            “I’m here, Cullen.”

            “Cullen, can you hear us?” Cassandra asked from somewhere in the room.

            “Celia?”

            “She’s not here yet, Cullen. I will call her,” Cassandra tried her best to reassure him.

            “Sleep now, Cullen,” Leliana whispered, stroking her fingers over his face. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

~

            _“Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post._

_The taller man smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he left._

_“Yes, absolutely_ glorious!” _he answered back._

_Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”_

_Cullen groaned and handed over his id. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”_

_“Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”_

_Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No, body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?_

_Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…_

~

Cullen startled awake. He jerked up in bed, yanking the iv in his hand and jarring his shoulder. He hissed quietly, reaching up to rub at his sore shoulder. He looked around the darkened room, the faint light from a street lamp outside casing an odd orange glow around the room. There was a female form curled up on the couch under a blanket. For a moment, he hoped it was Celia, however, when he looked closer he saw it was only Cassandra.

Deciding to let her sleep, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed at his forehead. Maker, he had to piss. With a quiet grunt, he grabbed his iv pole and pushed himself off the side. And then he fell. He barely took one step before he fell face first to the floor. A loud beeping noise emitted from his bed. Lights danced in front of his eyes and bright pain bloomed across his chin.

“Cullen!” Cassandra reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. “Maker, Cullen where are you?”

“Here,” he groaned as he sat up.

The sleep-addled woman hit the call button on the side of his bed and rushed around to him.

“I forgot,” he whispered quietly.

There in the dark, he stared at his leg stretched out in front of him. He stared at it intently, trying to will some kind of feeling into it. Cassandra knelt her body next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She was scalding compared to the coolness of his skin.

“I can’t feel it.”

“Cullen,” she whispered.

All he heard in her voice was pity and he resented it with every fiber of his being. At that moment, he knew he was going to lose the leg. His eyes never left his leg, the snarl on his face felt like home.

“Cullen, you’re still numb from surgery. This is normal. Anders said it would be normal.” Cassandra kissed his temple when she finished speaking. “For Maker’s sake, you aren’t even supposed to be walking on it yet.”

A nurse entered the room quickly, worried she’d find her patient bleeding on the floor. She was partially correct. With a gasp, she rushed over to them. Together she and Cassandra helped Cullen back up onto the bed, careful of his shoulder and ribs. He leaned most of his weight against Cassandra. She was strong, maybe even stronger than he was: although he would never admit it. Once he was settled in amongst the pillows and sheets, the Nurse turned the fall risk alarm off.

“What were you trying to do?” Cassandra asked him.

Cullen sighed and let them mother him into being comfortable. “I was trying to use the bathroom.”

“Oh,” the young nurse nodded, Cat, he thought her name was, “I can get you a bedpan–”

“I don’t want a bedpan,” he growled out.

Cassandra put her hands on her hips and nodded curtly to the nurse. Cat left quickly and Cullen was suddenly very worried.

“Cass,” he started.

She held up her hand and stared intently at him. “Cullen, you cannot walk right now. How do you propose that you make it to the bathroom?”

“I’ll crawl.”

“You are being stubborn.”

“I will _not_ use a bedpan.”

“You will,” she said, “or they will put a catheter in you.”

            Cullen grimaced and resisted the urge to rub at himself. Getting a catheter was not a pleasant experience. He felt like a child or some feeble old man who could no longer use the bathroom by himself. If they asked him to wear a diaper, he was certain he would kill them. With his iv pole. He grit his teeth and looked back up at her. She was right: there was no way he could get to the bathroom by himself. But the thought of having to rely on other people to help him relieve himself was humiliating and degrading.

            The nurse brought the bedpan and a urinal in. Cullen glared but took the urinal from her. The pair of women left together so he could relieve himself and preserve what little dignity he had left. Which, at that moment, was not much. He was grateful for once that Celia wasn’t there with him. What would she think?

            Their last text returned to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

            After that, he couldn’t return to sleep. Instead, he stayed quiet and watched the rain on the window. Cassandra had managed to fall back asleep only a few short moments after laying back down. Watching her made him envious. Even when he wasn’t in the hospital, Cullen found it difficult to sleep. Nightmares were made worse by lyrium and they kept him from sleeping at all.

            After all their time knowing each other, Rylen could still make him laugh at himself. The two had been stationed together more than a few times and had remained close friends. The night in question took place when Cullen was twenty-three. He remembered that the Starkie had gotten them both so plastered that Cullen could remember nothing. Including how he wound up naked from the waist down, on the floor, with his ass high in the air. Pictures were taken.

            Then, against his better judgment, he pulled up news about the bombing. It took him hours to read through every article and watch every newscast. Every picture from the bombing he combed over for any details. There were pictures of bodies being pulled from the rubble. Alistair being led out of the back; he was covered in ash and streaked with blood. Then, there was a picture of himself being carried out by two soldiers. At first, he didn’t recognize himself: the news station had been decent enough to blur his face. Then he saw his leg, that mangled mess of raw meat. Bile rose in his throat and saliva filled his mouth the longer he looked at it. He shut his phone off and tossed it away from him.

            He counted the seconds that turned into minutes, minutes that turned into hours. All the while the rain fell.

            When Anders finally came in, Cullen was beyond exhausted. He had spent the previous six hours chasing his thoughts in circles like a dog chasing a rabbit. Josephine had arrived at eight am with a home-cooked Antivan breakfast for him. He ate like a man starving. Cassandra had arrived just as Josephine was leaving for work for the day. Against his anger, he sent Celia a text to tell her Anders would be telling them how the surgery was later that morning. She had yet to answer him when Anders walked in.

            “Heard you had a fall last night,” Anders said with a smile.

            Cullen nodded and sat up further in the bed. “I forgot.”

            Anders nodded and carefully started unwrapping the bandages from Cullen’s leg. “It happens, especially when you’re still coming off anesthesia. Cassandra, it’s lovely to see you again.”

            “And you as well, Dr. Anders. How is he?” She stood up from the couch and approached the side of Cullen’s bed.

            “Anders, please, Cassandra. We’ll find out. The surgery went well. Now, it’s just a waiting game.”

            Cassandra and Cullen waited and watched while Anders worked on Cullen’s leg. The stoic woman had her arms crossed in front of her, one hand resting on her chin as her face remained impassive. They listened quietly as Anders explained the surgery in as much detail as he could.

            “Am I too late?”

            Cullen and Cassandra looked up to find Celia standing shyly in the doorway.

            “No,” Cullen said with relief despite himself. “No, you’re just in time.”

            The older woman held Celia’s gaze with scrutiny. Cullen may have forgotten her absences, maybe even forgiven her for them, but Cassandra would not. Despite her feelings of anger towards the young girl, she would not stop her from being with Cullen. At least, not until he decided she was not worth the pain of disappointment.

            Anders continued explaining the surgery, gently moving Cullen’s leg as he went. His voice was soothing, even though what he was saying sparked worry in the three bodies around him. The more Anders moved his leg around, the more it hurt Cullen. Cullen reached for Celia’s hand and squeezed it when she took hold of it. Finally, he looked down at the bruised and iodine covered flesh. The leg was swollen and angry looking, bruised in some places. The grafts were large and left his leg looking like Frankenstein’s monster. The diamond-patterned graft made him sick to his stomach and he had to look away quickly.

            “So he won’t lose the leg?” Celia finally asked, keeping her eyes off of Cullen’s exposed leg.

            Anders frowned and began putting new bandages on Cullen. “I can’t say for certain. The risk of infection is lower since we used his own skin. However, there is still a risk that the grafts won’t take or if they even heal properly.”

            “When do I start physical therapy?”

            “Well, your leg needs to heal for at least thirty-six hours. Minimal movement if you can. After that, a physical therapist will come in and speak with you about stretches you should be doing until your leg heals. You won’t be doing any heavy work for a while. And I would like to keep you for a full five more days before we talk about release.”

            “Five days?” Cullen groaned.

            “Five days,” Anders answered back with a smile.

            Cassandra chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “Push it, Cullen, and he may make it a full week.”

            Cassandra left after that, pressed her lips to Cullen’s temple before she left. She gave a short nod to Celia on the way out. Celia was Cullen’s fiancé and therefore his problem. Though if that woman hurt him, she would have Cassandra to deal with.

            Celia brushed Cullen’s hair out of his face and smiled. “You’ll be home soon then.”

            Cullen nodded and turned his gold gaze up to her. She looked perfect, perfect as always. Her blonde hair was tied up in a smooth bun: he never could understand how her hair didn’t frizz. Cullen’s curls exploded at any hint of moisture. Her colorful blush gave life to her pale skin. Her lips were painted in a nude color: she rarely wore anything other than that. Warden Nude was the shade. Cullen had bought it for her on several occasions when she needed it.

            “We have got to get you a shower,” she said with a wrinkled nose.

            “You’re right about that,” Cullen chuckled. “My scalp itches. I’m fairly certain I still have blood in it.”

            Celia made an ‘ugh’ noise and retracted her hand. “You tell me that after I put my hand in it. So this could be the last surgery.”

            Cullen shrugged and scratched his jaw. “Let’s hope so.”

            She grew very quiet after that and busied herself cleaning a perfectly clean room. Cullen watched her, knowing that she cleaned when she was nervous or unsure of herself. It rarely happened, but when it did things around her tended to sparkle like a cleaning add. When he had asked her to marry him, she cleaned for three days straight before she said yes. Everyone he knew looked at him like he was crazy when they found out.

            _“It took her three days to accept?”_

_“Maker, Cullen. Why did you even ask her?”_

_“Three days? She didn’t answer you for three days?”_

So she needed time to figure it out. Cullen had been perfectly okay with that. They had talked about marriage before. Even though Celia had never mentioned marrying Cullen. There was no, ‘when we get married’.

            “I’ll see if the nurses can help you.”

            “No. Absolutely not. I’d like to be able to wash myself.”

            “Cullen,” she sighed, “you stink. Terribly. You need a shower and you can’t take one by yourself.”

            He smirked and pinched her butt when she bent over to check under the couch.

            “Why don’t you give me one?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            The way she said it wounded him a little. He was joking. Partly. Honestly, he would have rather her give him a bath rather than a nurse he didn’t know. Hell, he’d rather Rylen give him a sponge bath than someone he didn’t know. Yet, she sounded so turned off at the idea. Weren’t people supposed to take care of the ones they loved? True, they didn’t always have to enjoy it, but it was something they did.

            “I should get back to work,” she said and grabbed her purse.

            “Sure…”  

            “What is it, Cullen?” she asked him as one would ask a child.

            “Nothing,” he said quietly.

            Celia huffed and crossed her arms as she faced him. “Cullen, don’t be a baby.”

            Cullen looked at her, trying his best not to glare. “Celia, I’ve seen you two times while I’ve been awake. I _miss_ you, for Maker’s sake! And then when you’re here you leave within ten minutes.”

            “It’s not my fault you’re here,” she yelled back at him. “Why should I be punished for it?”

            Amber eyes blinked rapidly and his body recoiled from her. The words were caught in his throat, too many trying to come out at once. They bottlenecked there and began choking him.

            “I have to go,” she said quickly.

            Then she left. Cullen listened to her heels click loudly down the hallway. The force of them sounded almost like they were going to break the tile. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw cracks in them later.

            “Why should I be punished for it?” She asked him as if it were somehow worse for her than it was for him. As if coming to see him was a punishment. Being with him in the hospital was a punishment. Maker, he wanted to hit something. He was trapped in a bed unable to use the bathroom by himself, but she was being punished. Rage and hurt slivered in his chest like a tiny splintered mirror.

~

            Pale morning light filled Cullen’s hospital room with an eerie glow. The ex-templar yawned and rolled over to his side. And then promptly screamed. For a few seconds, the man beside the bed also screamed.

            “Stop screaming! It’s just me!” Alistair ripped his hood back and pulled off of his sunglasses.

            Cullen’s fist was raised, ready to drive into his friend’s jaw.

            “Makers hairy balls, Alistair!”

            “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Too much? You know I had wanted to wear a fake mustache, but they told me that would never work.”

            Cullen’s eyes narrowed. Alistair slowly grinned a smile that said, ‘please not the face.’ The shorter man, only by one damn inch, sighed and shook his head.

            “I wanted to come sooner and not under the cover of darkness, but security said, ‘No, your highness, you can’t do that~ your highness, you can’t enter like a _normal_ person, your highness.’”

            Cullen laughed and stretched. “They have a point, Alistair. I mean Maker, someone just tried to assassinate you.”

            The king took a seat, crossing one ankle over his knee. “For all we know, that could have been meant for you. I mean you did root for The Wilds and not The Mabaries.” He sucked his tongue against his teeth. “Very bad form, my friend.”

            “And that’s an offense punishable by death?”

            “Oh, of course. I’m trying to make it law.”

            Alistair smiled and then grew very stoic as he watched Cullen. His cognac eyes grew morose the more he looked at Cullen’s obvious injuries. The sigh he let out was regretful in nature.

            “It isn’t your fault,” Cullen told him.

            Alistair looked back up at his face and frowned bitterly. “No? You weren’t in that building because I asked you? That bomb wasn’t there because I was?”

            “Fine, but it’s still not your fault.” When Alistair still said nothing, Cullen persisted. “Okay, look, I’m supposed to be the one that’s depressed and angry, not you. We both can’t have the same emotions at the same time. Men don’t do that.”

            Finally, Alistair snickered. “They’ll have to commit us for hysteria.”

            “And then where will we be?”

            “In an asylum most likely. How did you manage to swing time for this visit?”

            “Oh, I promised some things I’m sure I will regret later.” Alistair steepled his fingers. “I hear Celia hasn’t been around much. Want me to deport her? She’s a Marcher, isn’t she? Say the word.”

            Cullen hummed and pretended to consider it before he laughed. “It’s tempting. Especially since I’m so mad at her, but no. No, I think I’ll keep her.”

            “Well my offer still stands.”

            Cullen nodded. Alistair was one of his oldest friends. They had gone through templar training together until Alistair left to join the military. Many times Cullen found himself wishing he had done the same. Alistair was an Andrastian, but held not love for what the chantry had become.

            When Alistair was put on the throne, Cullen pitied him. Alistair had never wanted the responsibility of having other people under his command. Yet, Cullen was grateful. Had Alistair remained in the Warden branch of the military, he’d be dead by now. It was selfish, but Cullen was glad he still had his friend: even if they didn’t get together as often as they used to.

            “Do you regret it?” Cullen finally asked.

            “This outfit? Yes.”

            “You know what I mean, Alistair.”

            “Of course I know what you mean, dearest.” Alistair sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Some days, yes. But other days I remember that I would likely be dead had I stayed where I was. I think people need someone in charge who doesn’t want the power. They’re less likely to become like Orlais then.” He smiled. “It’s a revolving door of emotion, Cullen. You can’t get off.”

            “No matter how many times you get sick.”

~

            “Come on, Cullen. One more rep!”

            Cullen wanted to punch the physical therapist in his perfect face. Sweat rolled down his back and forehead, soaking the shirt he wore. Never in his life would he have thought simply moving his leg would have caused him so much pain. It was nearing the forty-five-minute mark and Cullen had hated every second of it. One more blasted rep and it did nothing to lessen his hatred for the therapist.

“Good! Now you can sit,” Antonio said with a smile.

            The urge to punch him did not leave. Cullen dropped himself into the chair beside the bed before he acted on his urges. Josephine made a few notes in the little black book she always kept with her before asking the therapist several questions. Cullen said nothing, preferring to have the attention off of him for once. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

            “Damn. I missed you doing jazzercise!”

            Rylen smirked from his place in the doorway. In his hands, he held the most glorious thing Cullen had seen in two weeks.

            “Tell me that pizza is for me.”

            “Nah, it’s for the lovely Josie,” Rylen answered, winking at the Antivan when he entered the room fully.

            “You are a terrible flirt,” Josie laughed with a blush dusting her cheeks.

            “Get out,” Cullen pointed back at the door, “get out and come back with food.”

            Rylen chuckled and sat the pizza on the bed. “How’s he doin’?”

            “Well,” Antonio started, “as long as he keeps this up, he should keep at least 70% of his range of motion.”

            Cullen’s jaw cracked. He leaned back in his chair and let the glare take over his face. Seventy percent. He would never be able to run the same. Kick-boxing would be significantly harder. In the back of his mind, the rational part, he told himself that it was better than nothing. And it was better than nothing. It was better than not having a leg at all.

            Rylen nodded and moved to the side so that the shorter man could leave. Josephine straightened her skirt and slipped her notebook into her purse.

            “You’re leaving us, Josie?” Rylen asked and handed a slice of pizza to Cullen.

            The Antivan smiled and pushed her hair back. “I’m afraid I have to. There’s a conference at one to discuss the investigation into the bombing. Leliana suggested she could handle it, however, I question her capabilities at _not_ scaring everyone.” She made a disapproving noise. “She makes this face.”

She tried to imitate it, making Rylen laugh.

Cullen chuckled and took a bite of pizza. “That’s just her face, Josephine.”

“Precisely my point.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Do call me if you need me, Cullen.”

“Thank you, Josie.”

Cullen took her hand and kissed the back of it before she left quietly; her heels hardly made a sound as she left.

“You smell,” Rylen teased when she was far enough down the hallway she wouldn’t hear him. Because if she had heard him, she would have marched right back and smacked him over the head with a fan. Or something else entirely ladylike.

Cullen groaned and reached for another slice of pizza. “Tell me about it. I feel disgusting. It’s almost as bad as when we were stationed in the Hissing Wastes.”

Rylen grimaced and shuddered. “Maker, the varghasts.”

“Maker, the fifty men on water restrictions.”

They were silent for a while after. The pizza was a good gag for the both of them. For Cullen, it was nice to just not be alone. To not have someone ask him every five minutes how his leg was, or how he was feeling. For a moment with Rylen, it felt normal. Like their monthly pizza nights all over again. Only minus the beer and the cheesy action films they both loved.

“No Celia?”

Cullen gave him a side-eyed glance. “Let’s just assume that if you have to ask, she isn’t here.”

“Sorry.”

Cullen sighed and looked out the window. “It’s fine. I just,” he paused. “Maker, Ry, I am _pissed_ at her.”

Rylen shrugged and picked up another slice. “You’re allowed to be pissed, Cullen. She’s been here, what? Three times in how many weeks? I’d be pissed too, that’s for sure.”

“I know she’s scared, but fuck if I’m not scared too.” He set the pizza down, appetite completely gone. “If I lose the leg– don’t give me that look, it’s a possibility. If I lose my leg, I think she’ll leave me.”

His old friend whistled and leaned back in his seat. “That’s a serious worry.”

“It is.”

Silence.

“Maker, man, I can’t take serious conversations when you smell like that.”

The Ferelden tossed a pillow at him. “Piss off. You don’t like it, do something about it.”

Rylen sat there for a few moments and then smiled. “Fine. Get up. You’ve a shower in that bathroom, yeah?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then I’m getting’ ya in it. Now where’d that cute nurse go?”

Before Cullen could object, Rylen was out of his chair and out to the nurse’s station. Rylen had an annoying habit of getting whatever he wanted because he was charming. Really, he was only charming because of his accent. It drove Cullen absolutely mad. The man didn’t even have to try.

It wasn’t as if the nurses hadn’t offered to help him shower. He was just uncomfortable with the notion of someone he didn’t know helping him with something so intimate. They had offered and he, stubbornly, had stuck with the wipes they had given him. All he needed really was someone to help him get undressed and then dressed again. Maybe wash his hair since he still couldn’t raise his shoulder up high enough to wash it without pain.

The nurse had come in and given him fancy plastic-wrap for his leg so the grafts wouldn’t get wet. Rylen had helped him get undressed and situated in the shower chair. It wasn’t the first time he had seen the other man naked and it wasn’t likely to be the last. Rylen washed his hair for him, joking about how he always wanted to be a hairdresser. He held the mirror while Cullen shaved, occasionally teasing with ‘you missed a spot.’ Sharing a barracks with someone for years often resulted in disappearing boundaries.

“Hey,” Rylen said while he helped Cullen dress, “at least it didn’t ruin your tattoo.”

Cullen chuckled and straightened the shirt around his hips. The lion head tattoo on his left pec had remained unscathed. Years ago, when he was only nineteen, he had gotten it on a drunken night with Alistair. Cullen considered himself lucky though: Alistair wound up with a griffon on his ass.

“And your mother called me.”

His heart dropped in panic.

“Breathe. I didn’t tell her anything. But you will. I told her you’d call her back. She’s worried, Cullen,” Rylen added. “She saw the news, they all did. Call her.”

“I will call them.”

After Rylen left, he did call them. His mother cried, he cried. Mia insisted she was going to call off to come and stay with him. It took him a half-hour to convince them he didn’t need them to come. Even though he did need them to come. But he knew that no one could afford it. His heart ached with missing them. He had meant to fly out later in the next few months, but it appeared that it would not happen. He told them everything would be okay. It felt like a lie, but he said it regardless.

_Everything will be okay._

 


	2. Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter but have it anyways. I added more tags to describe the future relationships. Basically, Rory and Cullen go through like eight different feelings for each other. Bumbling idiots the both of them. Also, Cullen and Cassandra's bromance gives me life.

* * *

            “Curly, are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Varric had stepped out of his sports car and yelled across the roof.

            Cullen eyed the steps of his apartment. The building was at least two hundred years old with additions and updates dating up to the present. Yet still, it had retained much of its quirks: there was no elevator, the only parking was three blocks down – _Maker, did anyone bring my car home?_ The top four floors were added in the last hundred years. Cullen lived on the seventh floor, the very top.

            “I’ll be okay,” Cullen assured him.

            Varric smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure you will.” He frowned and looked at the building behind Cullen. “Are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me? My apartment has an elevator.”

            Cullen shook his head and stepped up onto the curb. “I’m sure. I’d like to just be home.”

            “I get that. Look, you will call me if you need me,” he gave the best stern voice he had.

            The younger man laughed and nodded. “I will call you if I need you. Thank you, Varric. For everything.”

            Cullen stood by his decision to stay at his apartment. Right up until the third floor. The eighth step to be exact. He was completely breathless, his leg was throbbing and in excruciating pain. Leaning there against the banner, he regretted every choice he had ever made in his life. Soul patch in high school? Regretted. The stew he had last night? Regretted. Skinny jeans? Regretted. The pancakes he scarfed down for breakfast? Re. Gret. Ted.  

            There were echoes on the stairs behind him and he groaned.

_Please, Maker, let them pass quickly._

            “Oh!” A brunette rounded the banister and smiled at him. “Cullen, you’re back from the hospital!”

             Lorelai, the woman who lived next door, smiled up at him. She came up the last few steps so she was eye-level with him and adjusted the purse on her shoulder. She pushed her brown bangs out of her face and then her smile quickly faded.

            “Hello, Lorelai,” he said with an attempted smile.

            “Cullen, are you alright?”

            He took more weight off of his leg. “I,” he started to lie to her. “It’s my leg, I injured it. I just need to rest for a moment.”

            “And your arm? And your face? Why didn’t you take the service elevator?” She raised her groomed eyebrow at him and cocked her hip out to the side.

            “We have one? It was dislocated. I have to wear the sling for another two weeks.”

            Her laughed echoed brilliantly in the corridor. “Yes, Mr. ‘I’m a health nut so I only take the stairs’, we have an elevator.”

            Her hazel eyes looked him up and down slowly. The ex-templar felt like she could see right through him. It felt like he was flayed open under her gaze and in a glance, she would see every scar, every tender wound, every frayed edge, and know. She intimidated the hell out of him without even trying.

            “Do you need help getting up this flight?”

            His brow furrowed as he looked down at his feet. He did need help, but it pained him to admit it. Surely, this woman had better things to do.

            “No,” he finally said, “I’m okay.”

            “For someone in security, you are a _terrible_ liar.”

            It was hard not to smile with her.

            Lorelai stepped up beside him and put her arm around his waist. “Lean into me,” she said. “I’m stronger than I look.” Cullen leaned a little closer to her. “I’m surprised the hospital didn’t send you home with crutches.”

            Cullen walked with her, refusing to lean his whole weight on her. His leg still burned and the throbbing was the most horrendous thing. The hospital did give him crutches. He simply forgot them. On purpose. It was bad enough they made him be wheeled out in a wheelchair.

            “I’m not going to break, Cullen.” She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “These old buildings have the worst stairs. But the views are so wonderful.”

            “They are. I see you sometimes in the morning on your balcony.”

            She nodded and continued to support him up the stairs. “It’s my favorite place. Part of the reason I chose this building was the views of the ocean.”

            “And the other part?” He tried not to gasp it out.

            “It’s close to work. I’m head of the restoration department at the art museum,” she explained when he cast her a curious glance. She let him rest for a few moments on the second flight. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. We’ve only been neighbors for four years now.”

            He suddenly felt ashamed. “I’m not one for small talk.”

            Lorelai made a thoughtful noise and helped him up the rest of the flight in silence. Every step Cullen took was methodical and carefully placed. He wanted to collapse in gratitude when they reached the third-floor landing. She let him rest again before they started walking down the wood hallway. He kept his arm around her as they walked and she her arm around his waist. If anyone were to pass them by, he was certain they would appear as if they were having an affair.

             “Can I ask about your leg? All Celia said was that you were in the hospital.”

            He shifted and his hip pressed against her waist. She was about six inches shorter than he was, yet she made him feel so small.

            “I was involved in the bombing.”

             He felt her tense against him. When he looked down, he caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Maker, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

            “I’m so very sorry, Cullen. You lost a lot of good people.”

            Cullen nodded but said nothing. He missed a lot of funerals while he was in the hospital. He hoped that Celia remembered to send flowers for him. He would have to send a personal letter to Castelo’s wife. _Shit, Maria._

            Lorelai let him set the pace as they made their way down the hall. This close to her, he caught the faint whiff of oil paint and old books, mint shampoo. She led him to the end of the hallway and into a small alcove where an elevator sat.

             “You’re home early,” he said.

             “Mm. There’s a storm blowing in and I didn’t want to get stuck at the museum. If we lose power, the doors lock and there’s no way in or out until the power comes back on.” She shook her head and pressed the up button. “Well, there’s one way out, but you have to set a fire. I think that would be frowned upon.”

            “Maybe a little,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t think this place had an elevator.”

            The brunette nodded and waited for the doors to open. “Yeah. Mrs. Hornigold said they put it in when they built the upper floors. Easier to move in furniture.”

            Cullen leaned against the inside of the elevator when they stepped inside. Mrs. Hornigold lived across the hall from them. She was a grumpy old biddy, who was not particularly fond of Cullen. She told him that he was as loud as a horse when he walked down the hallway.

            “I wish I would have known that. Moving a couch up those stairs is difficult, to say the least.”

            She smiled at him and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her pierced ear. It was the only thing about her that really seemed out of place to Cullen. The young woman seemed so reserved and dressed so _nice_ that the multiple earrings in her ear jumped out at him. Was it a rebellious phase when she was a teenager?

            Openly, and without shame, she surveyed him. His face was blushed a deep coral, and there were a few beads of sweat on his forehead. He obviously favored right leg, practically taking all of his weight off of it as he stood across from her. The golden curls that haloed his head were unkept and loose. It made him look boyish in a way, more relaxed. He was out of breath but tried desperately to take shallow breaths.

            “Did you hurt your ribs too?”

             Cullen blinked and then sighed. There was no point in lying to her. “A few bruised ones. They are better, but still ache.”

            “Have you tried royal elfroot salve? I know it’s technically holistic, and most people see it as an imaginary treatment, but it does help.”

            “Are you a naturalist, Lorelai?” He tried not to sound judgmental when he asked the question.

            “Please call me Rory. Lorelai is my cousin.” Full lips pursed as she thought about the question. “I suppose so,” she finally said. “Though, I’m not as extreme as to think certain medications aren’t better than natural herbs. Some illnesses can’t be treated naturally.”

            Cullen nodded, relieved. So she wasn’t completely crazy.

            “I have some if you’d like to try it.”

            “Oh, I… I couldn’t put you out.”

            “Nonsense,” she said with a smile. “I have a few jars. A cousin of mine makes it.”

            “In that case, I’ll take you up on the offer.”

            Maker, her smile sent his stomach clenching. _Enough, Rutherford._ He had a fiancé he loved. Yes, they had been having a few problems, but that was no reason for him to go and get butterflies for another woman. Butterflies. Like he was a teenager looking at Shelby Matherson all over again. Maker, he was a grown man. A grown man in a committed relationship.

            Maybe his stomach was clenching because of the small space. That was most definitely it. The small space. Ever since Kinloch, he hated small spaces. They made him nauseous and unable to breathe properly. He could feel the sweat bead on his palms.

            “Good. I’ll run it over when we get in.”

            Maker, he couldn’t breathe. Every short breath he took was pained by his ribs. Rory was speaking to him, something about the salve. Cullen’s skit was getting hotter and hotter in the space with so little air-circulation. He rolled his good shoulder under his shirt and had to stop his hand from rubbing the back of his neck. All he could see were bars. Rory was fading further and further into the background, her voice growing even more muffled.

             When the elevator doors finally opened, Cullen couldn’t get out fast enough. He returned his arm around Rory’s shoulder and went as quickly as he could out of the elevator. She wrapped her arm around his waist and stumbled with how quickly he made his exit. Her face was pressed close against his side the more he leaned on her. And the more they walked, the closer he got. He smelled like oakmoss and elderflower, but his clothes smelled like lavender. Probably Celia’s fabric softener.

            Leliana stood waiting patiently at his door, a pair of crutches leaning on the wall beside her. The blue-eyed raven watched them round the corner together. With the raise of her eyebrow, she said everything without opening her mouth. Cullen cast her a look that screamed, ‘don’t you fucking dare’.

            “Varric called and said you had left your crutches at the hospital,” Leliana said, tsk-ing her tongue as she finished. “Hello,” she turned her gaze to Rory, “I am Leliana.”

            Rory smiled and shook her outstretched hand. “Rory. I live next door to Cullen.” She caught the subtle gaze between the two friends and tried to ignore it. “Forgot you crutches hm?”

            Cullen smiled sheepishly and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Accidentally. On purpose.”

            “Impossible,” Leliana sighed.

            Rory stepped out from beside Cullen and adjusted the purse at her side. “I’ll leave him to you then,” she said, smiling to Leliana. “And I’ll get the salve over to you later today.”

            Cullen nodded adjusted his stance without the small woman to lean on. “Thank you for your help, Rory.”

            The pair of friends watched Rory retreat back down the hallway and enter her apartment. It struck Cullen how gracefully Rory actually walked. Especially when she did not have a 6’3, 215-pound man hanging off of her. She moved like a dancer. Her long hair swished with every light step she took. Cullen tried not to focus on her hips as she walked back away from him.

            Leliana politely cleared her throat and took Cullen’s keys from him. “If you’re quite finished staring.”

            “I was not staring,” he growled out and let her open the door.

            His apartment was dark, letting him know Celia had left the curtains closed for him. With floor to ceiling windows completely overtaking the east wall, the large apartment got bright very quickly. In his second month, he invested in blackout curtains to go behind the heavy blue blinds he had bought. Maker, he missed his apartment.

            As soon as they were in, Leliana passed him the crutches and walked down the hallway and around to his kitchen. She grabbed the black kettle from off the stove and began filling it with water. Sometimes the setup to his apartment annoyed him, but he still wouldn’t trade it for anything. There was a small foyer area just on the other side of his door. A closet nestled in the wall to the right. The kitchen and dining room area sat behind the left wall. There were defined spaces, yet it was a largely open concept.

            Their apartment was mainly kept bare. Cullen had a few pieces of art he had collected over the years. There weren’t many throw pillows or blankets around the furniture. There were no decorations: Celia didn’t like decorative objects that didn’t serve a purpose. Clutter is how she described it.

            Cullen used the crutches and maneuvered himself over to the couch so he could prop his leg up on what pillows they did have. It was good to be home, he thought, good to be in a place where he could be in pain in peace. A pain he was quickly reminded of when his leg continued to throb painfully. Pain was a good sign, yes? It meant he still had nerve function in his leg. _Bright sides, Rutherford, bright sides._

            “I want to go over what happened if you don’t mind,” Leliana’s voice flittered over the silence of the large apartment.

            “Okay.”

            He had already answered all of their questions that he could. Despite his annoyance at having to answer the same questions over again, he knew the importance of getting everything. There was always a possibility of a victim remembering something– His breath caught in his throat. Victim. He was a victim. The thought didn’t settle well with him: it rolled around his head like a ball on a sloped floor. Maker’s balls, he was a victim.

            “I can hear you thinking all the way in here,” Leliana remarked playfully. “It’s a terrible habit, you know.”

            “I am well aware.”

            He waited patiently for Leliana to finish brewing the tea. His body sunk deeper down into the plush leather couch. Celia hated the couch with a passion. It was ugly, she said. It looked like it belonged in a cabin. He had wanted to get a fur rug, part out of spite, part because he really wanted one. A fur rug and a mabari.

            Leliana entered the room quietly. She needed a bell; he told her that quite often. For Satinalia the year before, he had bought her a belled collar. A present that was meant to be a funny joke, but Bull had turned into something completely dirty. Cullen blushed for days and Celia had ignored him. It took him two weeks to convince her that there was no romantic attraction between him and Leliana.

            “Drink this. It’s good for you.” She passed him a warm mug and sat down at the end of his feet. “Are you ready to go through it again?”

            Cullen took a drink of the scalding hot tea and nodded. “Might as well. Are you recording this one too? Good,” he added when she nodded and turned on her phone. “I woke up at five that morning. I wanted to get a run in before the meeting with Alistair.” He set his tea down on the side-table. “I returned home around seven and took a shower. I left the house around 8:30 or 8:45. I drove to the Capital, I didn’t want to take the metro. I parked at 9:00, the stub should still be in my console. I got to the building at 9:15. My meeting with Alistair wasn’t until 9:45, but I like to be there early. Morris Castelo was on duty at the time. We engaged in conversation before…”

            Cullen trailed off and with his eyes traced the geometric shapes on the wallpaper. It had been cold that day. Colder than usual. There was a kind of static in the air that lightning storms bring with them. Everything about that morning was normal, it was expected, routine. Mike was working the parking booth, as usual, Racine was behind the coffee cart.

            “Cullen?” Leliana reached and took his hand in hers. “Cullen.”

            He squeezed her hand and cleared his throat. “Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything about the place was routine. I showed each guard at each checkpoint my badge. Castelo and I had a short conversation. He looked behind me, towards the south entrance, and said to someone, ‘Sir, you’ll need to check that bag.’” He stopped again, closing his eyes and trying to see more that he missed. “He didn’t look worried. He turned back to me and told me that Alistair was upstairs waiting for me.”

            “And after that?” Leliana gently pushed.

            Cullen closed his eyes again and willed himself to remember everything he could.

            “There was an explosion. At first, I thought it was thunder, but then there was heat on my back.” What else? Heat. On his front. There was a second explosion. One that sent him flying backward. “There was a second explosion.”

            “You’re certain?”

            “Yes. Yes, this one from my front. And,” he faltered.

            Cullen remembered nothing more. The blank space of memory left him with a taste of bitter anger on his tongue. He tried; he focused until his head hurt and his jaw clenched painfully.

            “That’s all I can remember. When I woke up, I was looking at the ceiling. My ears were ringing, I couldn’t feel my leg or move my arm. I tried to find Castelo, but I couldn’t. Then Jim was there.”

            Leliana turned the voice recorder off on her phone and sat back in her seat. She traced the pain on his features carefully, marking each line and crease as it appeared. He looked so much older than he was.

            “Do you want me to stay with you?” Leliana asked quietly.

            Cullen sighed and shook his head. “No. No, I’ll be alright. I’m just looking forward to taking a nap on my couch.”

            “I would wait until after Rory comes by with that salve.” Leliana smiled sweetly and slipped her phone back into her purse.

            “Don’t smile at me like that.”

            “Like what? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

            Cullen narrowed his eyes at her. “She was just helping me.”

            “And you were helping yourself to her.”

            “I was not!”

            Leliana laughed. “Yes, you were! You were looking her up and down all smitten.”

            Cullen could feel his cheeks turning a bright red. Leliana was not completely wrong. That did not mean, however true it was, that he was going to admit it.

            “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. She is very pretty. Maybe I’ll ask her out.”

            “By all means.”

            Leliana smiled again, that knowing smile that drove Cullen to near murder. She stood up and kissed Cullen on the forehead.

            “Call me if you need anything, dear.”

            “I will. Celia will be home at three. I won’t be alone.” He chuckled. “I feel like a pre-school teacher reassuring a distressed mother that I am capable of taking care of her child.”

            “Except you are the child assuring me he can take care of himself.” She looked him over and frowned. “Use the crutches. Anders said you had to.”

            He nodded and Leliana left. It was the first time he was alone in the quiet in weeks. There were no beeping monitors, no coughing, no nurses or doctors running around. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts. At that time, he hadn’t yet decided if it was a curse or a blessing. The faint sound of rain pattering against his windows offered him a brief respite. The throbbing in his leg was finally starting to subside to a faint pulse.

            One thing was certain about his new phone: it was entertaining. He had downloaded several games and he had access to all of his emails and current news. Current news that he avoided. He pulled up a zombie game Rylen had downloaded for him. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose hours to the game and had quite frequently in the hospital.

            The knocks on his door almost blended in with the rain.

            “Just a moment!” He called out as he started to stand up.

            “It’s just me!” Rory called back to him from the other side of the door. “Leliana said she left the door unlocked. Can I come in?”

            Bless the spy.

            “Yes, that’s alright!”

            Cullen straightened himself up. He picked up the faint sound of the door opening and closing.

            “Oh! I love your wallpaper,” Rory remarked as soon as she entered the living room.

            Cullen had picked out the wallpaper without Celia. Needless to say, she hated the geometric squares that decorated the south wall. They were too distracting and dizzying.

            “Thank you. I thought it went well with the green.” He wasn’t sure what else to say to her.

            Rory nodded and turned to face him with a smile. “It does. Though to be honest with you, I expected…more?”

             Cullen kept the look of surprise off his face. He wondered if her outspoken nature had ever gotten her disliked. Though, he sincerely doubted if she had ever said something truly cruel or inappropriate to anyone.  

            “Celia doesn’t like a lot of clutter. I have a few pieces of art I’m fond of.”

            Rory nodded and walked closer to him. “I noticed you have a copy of ‘Kiss of Deliverance’.” She sat on the end of the lounge, next to his feet. “It’s one of my favorite paintings. I have a copy of it in my bedroom.”

            He tried very hard not to picture her bedroom. _Maker, what is wrong with you, Rutherford?_

            “It’s a great painting. Have you ever seen it in person?” Cullen asked.

            The woman at his feet shook her head and brushed her brown hair behind her ear. “No. It’s not in any museum that I know of. Rumor has it that it’s in a private collection somewhere in Orlais.”

            “Bloody Orlesians. They ruin everything.”

            Rory giggled and then nodded. “It would seem that way. No, but I would love to see it in person. Lavenmile was a very talented painter, wouldn’t you say? Did you know she was actually a woman?”

            Cullen blinked and sat up a little more. “I didn’t, no. I always thought he– she was a man.”

            The art-restorer smiled sadly and sighed. “I did my dissertation on her. It took me a whole two years to discover that she was actually a woman, and not a man like it was said.”

            “You discovered it?” Cullen was in awe

            A proud smile took over her features. “I did. Though, it made a lot of people very angry. And I still get emails and DMs telling me how terribly wrong I am and,” she deepened her voice, “’How just like a woman to take away a man’s accreditation.’” She rolled her eyes. “I found her self-portrait in an old barn if you can believe it.”

            “You’re joking!”

            “If only! I was there in Bestaile, that’s a small town in Orlais near the coast– she used to live there, or it was rumored she used to. Anyways. I went to the house where she was reported to have lived, but when I got there it just didn’t seem right. Lavenmile was poor, yes? Yet the house Orlais claims to have been her home is a mansion. It’s an incredibly large estate. There was no conceivable way that she could have lived there!”

            Cullen nodded, watching her fling her hands about as she talked.

            “So, I started doing some more digging. I found absolutely nothing. I was going to go home, but I decided to stay just a little longer. One night I was looking at her landscapes and then I saw it. Half of her landscapes were in the same area!” She smiled excitedly. “I kept seeing the same rock or tree, the same shape of the shoreline. So the next morning I started…” she faltered with a frown. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this,” she said with a quiet little laugh.

            Cullen sat up more and put his hand on hers. “I really do. And I’m not just saying that to be nice.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes. Please keep going?”

            Rory nodded. “If you’re sure. Where was I? Oh! So I started walking the shoreline. I kept looking for certain rocks and trees. And then finally I found it.” She started leaning forward as she talked. “There was this old two story house nestled back among some trees. The view from that area matched her landscapes. I went up and knocked on the door, just to see what I could find out. An old woman answered and when I explained, she invited me in for some tea. Which, I detest tea, but she was so cute I couldn’t say no.”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Of course, that would have been rude.”

            “Extremely rude!” she chuckled. “Her family had lived there for ages. So she was telling me about how her great-grandfather rented their barn out back to a painter for fifty crowns a month. Now, here’s where I get a lot of flack, she was an _elvish_ woman.”

            “You’re joking! They erased that part about her too?”

            “Well of course,” Rory sneered. “They are inferior, my dear Cullen. Well, I asked her if I could take a look around and she said she’d be happy to let me. She gave me the key to the lock on the barn and told me to help myself, but to come back when I was finished for lunch. I took a flashlight with me and started digging.”

            “If you tell me you found the painting lying out in the open.”

            Her hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “No. No, that I had to dig for. I was on the first floor when my foot fell through the wood. Which is strange, since most barns don’t have space under them. I pulled my foot out and shined my light down. To tell you the truth, I was half expecting to see a darkspawn.” She smacked his thigh when he laughed at her. “Well, I don’t know! It was dark and scary. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” she cast him a withering glare. “I shined my light and saw that it was just a large hole dug out of the dirt and covered by the wood.  There was a large piece of cloth covered in dirt, so, I pulled it out and carefully unwrapped it and there it was. At first, I thought it was just a portrait of an elvish woman. But then I saw her signature at the bottom.”

            “My heart nearly stopped, Cullen. It felt like I was having a panic attack. I carefully flipped it over and there it was on the back. It was her self-portrait. Would you laugh at me if I told you I cried?”

            “No.”

            “Good, because I did cry. I picked it up and rushed back to the house. I explained to the woman what it was and who it was by. She told me to take it with me on the condition that I would not tell people where the house was located until after she died. The government would have kicked her out of it for certain and that was her family’s home.”

            “Did you tell anyone?”

            “I absolutely did not. I kept her as an anonymous source and refused to disclose the exact location. Which also lets people believe I made it all up.” She rolled her eyes. “Now if someone were especially determined, well they could find it. But mostly, people don’t want to believe me.”

            “I believe you. Do you still have the painting?”

            Rory nodded. “I do. It’s at the museum though. It’s on loan exclusively to the Denerim museum. I won’t send it to Orlais. I’m terrified that it will go missing or something will happen to it. I don’t trust them to keep their grubby little mitts off it.”

            Cullen smiled. “That’s probably smart. So ‘The Kiss of Deliverance’, that’s her and another woman?”

            Rory smiled brightly. “It is. That’s one way to piss off the chantry, wouldn’t you say?”

            Cullen laughed loudly and then winced. “Damn.”

            “Oh! Cullen, I’m sorry. Here,” she passed him the small blue jar of salve. “Two or three times a day. Really whenever you have pain.”

            “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her. “And thank you for telling me that story. I can’t believe you were that lucky.”

            “Neither can I. And thank you for listening. Most people don’t get very excited about things like that.” She grew very quiet and looked down at her longer paint-stained fingers.

            He shrugged and palmed the jar. “Most people are idiots.”

            “That they are,” she smiled again.

            Maker, the woman’s smile could stop the next blight.

            “So,” he finally snapped out of it, “I just rub this on what hurts?”

            “That’s the idea. I wouldn’t get it in any broken skin though.” She winced slightly. “Could sting a bit.”

            He opened the jar and brought it up to his nose. It smelled like it had lavender and embrium in it.

            “I’ll leave you to it then. And I apologize for taking up your afternoon. You must be exhausted,” she frowned deeply as she spoke.

            Cullen put the lid back on and smiled at her. “No, the company was nice. I enjoyed the conversation. And thank you for this,” he held up the jar.

            “Any time, Cullen. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock.” She stood up gracefully and straightened her shirt.

            “Goodbye, Rory.”

            The younger woman smiled and nodded before she left his apartment quietly. Cullen wondered why he had never taken the time out to talk to her before. They usually left the building at the same time. The more that he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t really know anyone in the building. He knew Mrs. Hornigold, of course, because she always went out of her way to tell him he was too loud in the hallway.

            With careful precision, Cullen opened the jar and began smearing the salve over his ribs. It tingled the longer he had it on before it faded into a gentle warmth. He brought the thick substance up onto his shoulder as well. The thought of putting some around the stitches on his lip crossed his mind, but he held off until he knew what exactly it would do for him. He pulled his shirt back down, spread a throw over himself, and settled deeper into the couch.

            Sometime later, he woke up with a gasp of pain. The apartment was dark save for the flashes of lightning that graced the sky. His leg felt like it was being stabbed over every inch. Tears sprung to his eyes and he reached down to cup his calf.

            “Celia?”

            When there was no answer, he searched the blanket for his phone. He had one message sent an hour before from Celia. All it said was she was working late and would not be home. He could hardly think to text Cassandra. His mind kept shifting to the sharp pain in his leg. When he tossed the phone on the cushion beside him, he wasn’t sure exactly what the message said. He had hope though that Cassandra would get the hint and come over. It was only ten, it was unlikely she was in bed.

            For what felt like hours, he focused on taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Solas always told him he needed to meditate more. Then, the suggestion seemed pointless, Cullen didn’t believe in meditation. But there, sitting on the couch while in excruciating pain, he was willing to believe in anything.

The door shut quietly and Cullen opened his eyes. He wondered if it would be Cassandra or Celia. To his relief, Cassandra appeared at the end of the hallway.

            “Maker, Cullen.” She rushed towards him and put her hand on his forehead. “Your leg?”

            He managed to nod and then dropped his head back against the couch.

            “Cullen, you need to take the pain pills. Don’t shake your head no at me. Cullen, you can’t heal like this.”

            “No,” he croaked.

            Cassandra left his side and he wanted to reach for her. He heard her in his kitchen, opening drawers and then the sound of ice breaking. She came back a few moments later with two blue pills, a glass of water, and a makeshift ice pack.

            “It’s over-the-counter,” she said as she passed him the pills.

            He took them gratefully and downed the water in two large gulps. Very carefully Cassandra lifted his leg and pushed several more pillows under it. She laid the icepack on next, resting it as gently as she could.

            “Have you eaten?” she asked, pushing hair out of his face.

            “Not hungry.”

            His close friend sat next to him and folded her feet under her and to the side. Cullen shifted so he could lean against her and sighed heavily.

            “Thank you, Cassandra.”

            “Go to sleep, Cullen. I’ll be here when you wake.”

            She draped her arm behind his head and over his shoulders so she could pull him in close. His calloused hand found hers and intertwined their fingers together. After Kirkwall, the pair of them had become very close friends. Varric called it a bromance, much to Cassandra’s annoyance. Cassandra had been with him through the worst of his lyrium withdrawal. He wasn’t sure where he would be had she not pushed him through it. Cullen discovered in that time, that the quickest way to make or break a friendship was to vomit on a person. It had made he and Cassandra’s relationship. And there she was again, taking care of him like he was her child. The thought made him bitter.

            He should tell her…

            He _should_ tell her…


	3. Part Time Yodeler

* * *

 

            “What are you doing here?”

            _Celia?_

            Cullen tried to open his eyes, but sleep weighted them back down again.

            “The question is why weren’t you here?” Cassandra’s voice held daggers. “I am here because you weren’t. You assured all of us you would be home by three, four at the latest! He woke up in excruciating pain, Celia, and there was no one here to help him.”

            “I told him I was working late,” Celia snapped right back.

            “You should have told one of us! Celia, this was his first day back from the hospital. He _needed_ someone here. He needed _you_ here!”

            “I am not a nursemaid, Cassandra! I have a life outside of him!” Then, more quietly so he wasn’t sure if he heard it, “I didn’t ask for this.”

            There was silence in the dark room. It was so heavy Cullen could feel it pressing into his chest like a thousand-pound weight.

            “Neither did he,” Cassandra hissed. “No one asked for this, Celia. Least of all Cullen. Are you aware he could have died? That people did die? Cullen’s _friends_ died. He is lucky to even be breathing. And here you are, resenting him for what? For being injured and needing you?”

            Keys being picked up, a door opened.

            “I can’t do this right now. I have a huge presentation at work, my boss has been riding me for months about–”

            “You’re _leaving_?”

            “I’m going to my mother’s for the night.”

            “Coward! You selfish, selfish, little girl. How dare you! This man has done everything for you and you’re leaving him for the wolves!”

            “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

            “You–” Cassandra was cut off by the door clicking closed.

            Cullen’s heart clenched in his chest. At least, he thought, at least it took his mind off the pain in his leg. Cassandra’s weight settled next to him on the couch and her long fingers brushed his hair back.

            “Cullen? Would you like to move to the bed?”

            He shook his head and felt her pull the covers up around his shoulders. Thunder shook the windows of his apartment. He wanted to open his eyes and watch the storm, but his lids were cement. Just a few more hours. Just a few more.

~

            The smell of strong coffee, bacon, sweet bread, and eggs woke Cullen from a rather vivid dream. He was still on the couch, his leg still propped up from the knee down. The swelling had gone down, and Cassandra had appeared to change the bandages while he was sleeping. Vaguely, he remembers her waking him to take more pain pills.

            Very carefully, he pushed himself up onto the crutches. His leg throbbed painfully for the few seconds he had it held down, but then quickly righted itself. Using the bathroom was going to be quite the adventure. At least if he fell on his ass, Cassandra was there to help him up again. He left the lights off in the bathroom. The skylights above the tub and shower let in just enough light that he didn’t have to stumble.

            Using the bathroom was trickier than he thought. He had to balance himself on the right crutch and try to undo his pants with his left hand. Things would have been made so much easier if he were ambidextrous. After several minutes of swaying and cursing like he was a drunk in a bar, he finally managed to relieve himself. After he was done, he closed the lid and sat down so he could lean over to the sink and brush his teeth. He was certain Cassandra would not appreciate morning breath.

            He exited through his bedroom, idled thinking about changing into different clothes, but then deciding against him.

            “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Cassandra said when he walked out into the kitchen, “but you are going back on that couch.”

            “I’m not allowed to eat at the table?”

            She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “No. You need to keep your leg iced and elevated. _Like Anders said._ ”

            “Okay, okay.”

            His head was too foggy to argue with her. He made his way back into the living room with Cassandra carrying a tray of food behind him. When he returned back to the couch, he shoved a few pillows under his leg.

            “How is your leg this morning?” Cassandra asked while she sat a tray of food on his lap.

            “Thank you. It’s better. Still a little sore, but better than last night.” He picked up his fork and started eating slowly. “Stairs are not a good idea.”

            Cassandra smacked him upside the head gently. “Leliana said your neighbor helped you.”

            “Rory. Eat something.”

            “I already did. Leliana also said she was quite pretty.”

            Cullen gave her the side eye and sat his fork down.

            “What? That’s what she said. I am only relaying information.”

            “You are both ridiculous,” he grumbled. “What time did Celia get in last night?”

             Cassandra grew quiet before she curled up on the opposite corner of the couch. “Around midnight.”

             “And she went to her mother’s?”

             “Yes… I am sorry, Cullen. You should not have heard that fight.”

             He shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. “I’m glad you said it. You weren’t wrong, Cassandra. Just,” he sighed, “just take it easy on her? She’s under a lot of stress and I’m sure this isn’t helping.”

            “And what about you, Cullen? This whole time it has only been about Celia’s struggles, her stress. And what about yours? _You_ went through the bombing, Cullen. The least she could do is be here when you need her.”

            Cassandra held him down with her stare until he finally managed to look away. Damn her. And damn him too.

            “We need to talk,” he finally admitted.

            Cassandra made a thoughtful hum and turned the tv on.

            “Don’t you work today?” he asked.

            She shook her head and found a smiling talk show host to watch. “No. Well, yes. I took the morning off. Josephine said she can come and sit with you.”

            “I will be fine. I just did too much yesterday.”

            “Obviously. I’m afraid to leave you alone again. You could try to run a marathon.”

            “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I would come in last.”

            There was a soft knock on the door and Cassandra got up to answer it. Cullen continued to eat his breakfast, the food settling his stomach.

            “Ah. You must be Rory.”

            Cullen stopped chewing and quickly ran his fingers through his messy hair.

            “Hi. Nice to meet you…”

            “Cassandra. Cassandra Pentaghast. Come in.”

            Rory entered the room before Cassandra and smiled brightly at Cullen. Maker, she looked young. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, her hair was tied up in a loose bun, she had stained her lips so it looked like she just got done eating a popsicle. She had a few library books tucked into the crook of her arm.

           “Good morning, Cullen.”

           “Good morning, Rory.”

           Cassandra rolled her eyes behind Rory at Cullen’s bright smile. He ignored her as best as he could.

           “Thank you for the salve,” he said, “It helped a great deal.”

           “Oh good! I was hoping it would.” She took in the state of him and then grinned. “You look like a boy with your hair like that.”

           Cassandra chuckled and shook her head. “You should see what happens when he sleeps in an actual bed.”

           “Is it ridiculous?” Rory asked, ignoring Cullen’s groan.

           “Oh, completely. It sticks up and curls around at odd angles.”

           Cullen huffed and crossed his arms. “Can we please not make fun of the invalid who is only trying to enjoy his breakfast?”

          “Well I think it looks good on you,” Rory explained, trying to save his dignity. “I stopped by because I’m running a few errands and wanted to know if you needed anything?”

            “Oh. No, you don’t have to do that.”

            “Well I know I don’t have to, Cullen.”

            He nodded. “I don’t think I need anything, but thank you.”

            Cassandra looked at him and rolled her eyes. Rory noticed and smirked.

            “I think Cassandra thinks you do.”

            “He does. He’s out of most everything he actually eats.”

            It was true, he knew it was. Celia and Cullen did separate grocery shopping. Celia bought mostly organic and no potatoes. He couldn’t fault her that. She was a Free Marcher. Free Marchers could never understand Ferelden’s love of potatoes. She didn’t understand his love of potato bread either.

            “Well pass me a list and I’ll pick it up when I get my groceries.”

            Cassandra nodded her thanks. “Have a seat, I’ll make up a list.”

            “Don’t you think I ought to make the list? Since they’re my groceries?”

            Rory took a seat on the sectional across from him and smiled at the two friends. They continued to argue about who was going to making the list all while Cassandra went into the kitchen.

            “You’re insufferable!”

            “You’re a petulant child!”

            Rory laughed and shook her head at them.

            Cullen smiled an apology and shrugged. “I’ve known Cassandra for years.”

            “I can tell.”

            “She thinks she’s my mother,” he mumbled.

            “I think she loves you and wants you to be taken care of.” She played with the rings on her fingers. “That has to be nice.”

            Cullen frowned but said nothing for a while. She looked far off in thought and it seemed rude to disrupt her. When she finally seemed like she had come back to herself, Cullen spoke.

            “Bacon?”

_Maker, Cullen, really? Bacon? That’s what you say to her?_

            “I’d love some.”

            Rory reached over and plucked a piece off of his plate and took a bite. A pleased sigh left her as she savored the bacon. He couldn’t help but smile at her.

            “Cassandra, my compliments on the bacon!” the brunette called out.

            Cassandra came back into the living room and sat next to Cullen. “Thank you.”

            Cullen took the paper and pen from her and wrote down three things he could not live without. And then Cassandra took it back and continued writing.

            “Don’t give her an entire list.”

            Cassandra didn’t look up from her list. “You need an entire list. I can’t have you living off takeout.”

            “I mean, I could live off takeout forever,” Rory said as she came to Cullen’s defense. “But I really don’t mind getting your groceries.” She did her best to reassure him, but Cullen still frowned. “Really, Cullen, it’s not a problem.”

            “I’ll pay you for it. There’s some cash in my wallet,” Cullen offered.

            Cassandra nodded and kept writing. “I’ll get it for her when I finish. You just relax and eat your breakfast.”

            “Mm. I agree. It’d be a shame to let that bacon go to waste.”

            “I just don’t want to put you out.”

            “Cullen,” Rory said smiling, “I pick up Mrs. Hornigold’s groceries every week on my way home from work. You’re not putting me out.”

            He finished his breakfast without saying another word about putting her out. Rory sat patiently and chatted with Cassandra while she made out a list. Apparently, they both liked the same trashy novel, a fact Cassandra was very embarrassed about. ‘Smutty literature,’ she called it.

            “’The Rider In The Storm’ is probably my favorite,” Rory said.

            Cassandra gave a dreamy sigh. “It’s so…”

            “Perfect?” Rory offered. “There’s soul mates, reincarnation.”

            “Adventure. Suspense.” Cassandra groaned and ripped the list off of the pad of paper. “I hate to say it, but Varric didn’t an excellent job. Rutherford, if you tell him I said that.”

            Cullen laughed and put his fork down on the empty plate. “I won’t tell him.”

            “Wait,” Rory looked between the two of them, “you know Varric Tethras?”

            The two friends nodded, Cassandra with a grimace.

            “Unfortunately,” she confirmed.

            Rory’s entire face lit up, her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ shape. Cullen smiled at her and let Cassandra take the plate from him.

            “I’ll get you an autograph next time I see him,” Cullen promised.

            After Rory left, Cullen sighed and looked at Cassandra. “Go on.”

            “Hm?”

            “Go on. Say what you’re dying to say,” Cullen offered. “One time shot here.”

            “You are an idiot,” she said.

            “There it is! Well, keep going.”

            He sat back on the couch and drew the comforter up to his chin. There was a feeling in his chest that she could go on for hours. Especially with what happened the night before with Celia.

            “Are you still in love with Celia?”

            The question was unexpected. Cullen blinked slowly before he answered.

            “Yes, Cassandra, I am.” He shrugged his good shoulder and looked back to his friend. “I’m mad as hell at her right now, but I still love her. She’s having a hard time is all. I’m not going to stop loving her just because she’s not at her best right now.”

            “I’ll say,” Cassandra grumbled. “I mean, honestly, Cullen. Does she think that you aren’t also having a difficult time? I understand she’s upset, but Maker.”

            “Give her time, Cassandra.”

            Cassandra left around noon: she had a meeting downtown she couldn’t miss. He assured her that he would stay on the couch unless he had to use the bathroom, or get a drink. He had her bring him his laptop before she left. When she had gone, he pulled it into his lap and began his work. There was no reason he couldn’t catch up on paperwork while he was couch-bound. He answered dozens of emails, half of them from his family. More flooded in as soon as he answered what was in his inbox and still relevant. It felt good to be useful again.

            A half hour of answering emails and he was finished. And the next object on his to-do list made his stomach knot. _Call Maria._ He had written it in shaky script. Call Maria, it said. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. The black phone was heavy in his hand. Maria’s contact information was up. All he had to do was push a button.

            “Garden Gate, Margot speaking!”

            Cullen cleared his throat. “Yes, I…I need to send some flowers.”

            “Certainly! Who are they going to?”

            Cullen gave her Maria’s contact information. He waited while she scribbled everything down on her end and thought about what he was going to send her.

            “Great! So, what would you like to send?”

            “I…I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly. “My friend…Maria, she…Maker. Her husband was killed a few weeks ago. He was a close friend.”

            “I’m very sorry to hear that Mr. Rutherford. We have a number of sympathy gifts here: flowers, live plants, wind chimes, we have garden stones, religious knick-knacks.”

            “She’s…I don’t think she’s any good with live plants.”

            “Okay. Well, I’m going to assume she received plenty of knick-knacks and such at the funeral. They’re usually what everyone sends. We could send fresh in a vase. Then she won’t have to decide if she wants to keep anything or get rid of it.”

            “That…that sounds perfect, thank you. Would eighty be enough? Or would that be too much or…?”

            He could hear the smile in her voice. “Eighty would be plenty. We could use some higher end flowers. We’ll make sure it’s very respectable. Would you like a card message?”

            What would he say to her? What could he possibly say to her to make it better? Nothing. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he would even want to say.

            “Mr. Rutherford?”

            “I’m sorry. I just…”

            “Difficult to find the words.”

            “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, it is. Just…With my deepest sympathy, Cullen Rutherford.”

            “Okay, Mr. Rutherford. We’ll get that out for you tomorrow. You have a good day.”

            “You too,” he said before she hung up.

            It wasn’t enough. He knew that it wasn’t enough, but Maker help him if he knew what to do. It wasn’t like he could face her, not yet. He would, just…later. Much later. When he could stand on his own. When it didn’t still hurt. To distract himself, he flipped the tv on and browsed the channels. Eventually, he settled on a house flipping show. By the time Rory arrived back, he was on his fifth couple.

            “It’s just me! Cassandra tapped a note on my door with your key.”

            Cullen watched as she went into his kitchen, her arms full of bags. “Rory, I can help–”

            “You,” she called back, “can sit on the couch while I bumble about your kitchen and put things away! Let your leg heal.”

            “Is there any point in arguing with you?”

            “Absolutely not!”

            When she was done putting the groceries away, she brought him in a bottle of water and two pills.

            “The note said I had to make you take them.”

            Cullen sighed but took the pills from her. “I’m sorry.”

            “Hm?”

            He swallowed the pills. “We’ve kind of kidnapped you, haven’t we?”

            Rory smiled and sat across from him. “I don’t mind. I don’t have a lot of friends here, so it’s nice to have someone. Even if they did kidnap me.”

            “You sound like a Marcher.”

            Rory nodded and crossed one leg over the other. “Yeah. My mother was Ferelden though. My father is from Ostwick, but we moved to Hercina when I was a baby.”

            “You said was?”

            “Mom left us when I was eight. I’m not sure where she is or what she’s doing. Then again, I’m not sure if I care to know. She’s made no effort to be in touch with me.”

            She spoke very matter-of-factly, but there was a hint of sorrow behind her eyes. He decided not to push the matter further. Instead, he gestured to the tv and started a new conversation.

            “Every couple on this show has such unrealistic expectations.” He pointed to the man named David. “Apparently he is a copy editor and she is a stay at home dog-mom. Don’t laugh, they’re serious! Their budget is 2.5”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Of course it is! Oh, but look how beautiful.” She sighed dreamily as the final house was revealed to them.

            “They have good taste; I’ll give them that. Oh, oh, here we go.” Cullen wiggled in his seat as a new couple was introduced. “’My name is Katherine and I raise chickens,’” he voiced over the rather hippie free-love looking older woman.

            “Oh, that’s not fair. She looks nice. Now, what about him? ‘My name is Ed and I yodel part-time at dive-bars.”

            Cullen laughed at her deep voice. They talked over the entire episode, each adding the most absolutely ridiculous dialogue. At one point Cullen had Rory laughing so hard she was in tears.

            “Did you not have work today?” he asked while she got up to get him a drink.

            “No! Thank the Maker. I’m off most weekends.” There was a pause and the clinking of ice in a glass. “Am I intruding? I think I might be intruding. This is the second time I’ve sort of invited myself to stay.”

            “No!” Cullen rushed. “No, you aren’t intruding.” _If you leave I’m left alone with my thoughts._ “I enjoy the company.”

            She brought his drink back in and sat by his feet. “You can tell me if I’m intruding. Or being a bother. My cousin tells me I’m too friendly.” She shrugged with a smile.

            “I like it. It’s refreshing.”

            There was a faint blush on her cheeks they both ignored. “Are you hungry?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

            “I am starving.”

            “Takeout?”

            “Pizza and wings.”

            “Cheese. Beer?”

            “Craft in the fridge.”

            “Slice of Heaven or Griffon Keep?”

            “Neither.” He smiled at her confused expression. “Real pizza. Safe Harbor. I’ll call and order.”

            “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

            “They’re a dive-bar a few blocks down. They don’t have a sign, so you have to know they’re there.” He pulled his phone out and pulled up their contact.

            “That’s your bathroom?” She pointed to the door behind the couch.

             When Cullen nodded, Rory stood up and left the room.

            “Safe Harbor, what do you want?”

            “Hey, Hack.”

            “Cullen! Haven’t seen ya around in a bit.”

            Hack and Cullen first met when Cullen transferred back to Denerim from Kirkwall. Varric took Cullen out for drinks to Safe Haven. Hack was an ex-templar, just like Cullen. The old man was probably in his sixties or seventies. He looked like an old sailor that longed for the sea again. His white beard was always kept cropped close to his face. The wrinkles around his deep blue eyes looked like caverns on his tan face. Hack spoke with a voice of expensive whiskey and cheap clove cigarettes. He took no shit but gave plenty. Truth be told, he was one of Cullen’s favorite people.

            “Yeah, sorry about that.”

            “You want the usual?”

            “No, actually,” Cullen said smiling. “I need an extra-large cheese with the garlic stuff you put on the crust. Then I need a large order of barbeque wings, sticky mango, and then the honey bourbon. Oh, and send two packs of whatever craft beer you have. A pale lager.”

            “You’re getting picky, Mr. Rutherford.”

            “I have a friend I’m trying to win over for you.”

            The older man made a noise and Cullen chuckled.

            “You need people to like you Hack.”

            “Bullshit. I’ll have Nat run it over when it’s done.”

            Cullen hung up with the smirk still on his face. Really, he wanted the beer for later. If he was going to be stuck inside his apartment for who knows how long, he would need the beer. He would need a lot of beer. Out of reflex, he checked his email and saw fifty new waiting for him to read and reply to. On the one hand, he itched to work again, but on the other, he didn’t want to rush Rory to leave. Work could wait.

            Rory came back out of the bathroom and curled up in the opposite corner from him. She smiled at him and drew his discarded blanket around her.

            “I could turn the heat up?” he offered.

            “No, I like it cold. Makes it cozier, don’t you think?” She turned her head to look out his window. “I’ve always loved Denerim in the fall. Hercina doesn’t really have fall. Or winter. It gets chilly, but nothing like this. I think I only saw snow five times before I moved here.”

            Cullen blinked. “Five times?”

            “Mm. They used to cancel school when it would snow. It hardly ever stuck, but no one knows how to drive in it up there. You’re going to laugh at me, but the first time it snowed that I was here, I fell eight times on my way to work.”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Eight times? And you still went?”

            “I am very persistent,” she smiled, “and I wanted to make a good impression. Unfortunately, I had a bruise the size of a cantaloupe on my backside. I couldn’t sit for a week. Welcome to Denerim.”

~

            “Cullen Rutherford, are you trying to get me drunk?”  

            Rory looked down at the four six-packs with a raised eyebrow. She looked at Cullen and smirked. Nat wagged his eyebrows at Cullen and then winked.

            “You look like shit, bro.”

            “Thank you, Nat. I feel so much better.” He looked back at Rory. “And no, those are for me.”

            “So,” Nat rocked back on his heels before he entered the apartment to put the pizza and wings down. “You’re Cullen’s friend?”

            “Rory, nice to meet you.” She extended her hand politely and waited for Nat to take it.

             Nat sat the food down and took her hand in his. “Nat. Good to meet you.”

             “Rory is my neighbor,” Cullen offered.

             “Well, I hope that means I’ll be seeing more of you.”

             Nat was a fucking charmer. Every woman he ever met, he tried to flirt with. Truthfully, it had never bothered Cullen until he pulled his antics with Rory. Rory was a nice girl and Nat would only use her. He had classic good looks that everyone seemed to fall for. His bright green eyes always held a tinge of mischievousness. Every time he smiled, large dimples formed craters in his cheeks. And women fell for it every time.

             “You might if the food is as good as it smells.”

             “Why did Hack send four?” Cullen asked curiously while Rory took the beer into the kitchen.

             “Yeah,” Nat replied, watching Rory walk, “he said you’d probably need it, so he sent extra.”

             “Maker bless him,” Cullen groaned.

            Rory came back in and started to hand Nat a folded wad of cash. Nat flashed his pearly whites and held up his hand.

            “It’s already been put on Cullen’s tab.”

            “At least let me give you a tip.”

            “How about you keep your money and maybe give me a phone number?”

            Rory smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, her hip cocked out to the side. “Sure, Nat. You ready?” She ignored Cullen’s look of surprise. “It’s (248)-434-5508.”

            Nat plugged the number into his contacts and grinned victoriously at Cullen. “I’ll call you. We’ll catch a movie.”

            “Sounds fantastic. Thank you, Nat.”

            Cullen sat flabbergasted on the couch as Nat left with a new swagger in his step. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but Rory deserved better than a cheap one-night-stand with Nat. Rory’s laugh slowly flooded the apartment. It started out as a quiet giggle and then turned into sobs and snorting. She put her hand over her mouth at the first snort and then laughed harder at Cullen’s bewildered expression.

            “I’m sorry!” she gasped out, one arm over her stomach. “Oh, Maker. Oh, he’s going to be so mad.” She laughed again.

            “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

            “Call the number,” Rory instructed.

            Cullen picked up his phone and dialed the number she gave Nat. A popular song used to troll people suddenly came on over the call. Cullen stared at her with wonder and then joined in her dorky laughter.

            “Oh, oh, I shouldn’t have done that. That was a terribly mean thing of me to do.” Rory said as her laughter died off, only to have it start up again.

            “That was by far the best thing I have ever witnessed,” Cullen laughed out. “I wish I could be there to see his face when he calls.”

            Rory left the room still laughing and came back in with a cold six-pack. Cullen had sat forward and opened the boxes of food in front of him. She sat next to him and put the six-pack between them, pulled out two beers and opened both, passed one to Cullen. They picked up their conversation with mouthfuls and happy moans. Together they ate every slice of pizza and every wing in the boxes. When they were finished, Rory leaned back against the couch and groaned.

            “Maker, I ate too much,” she sighed.

            Cullen hummed in agreement and adjusted his leg on his pillows. “Give me some of that blanket,” he said.

            Rory scooted closer and spread the blanket out over them both. “I should go,” she sighed quietly.

            “Can you even move?”

            She giggled and stretched her legs out next to his. “I don’t know. I might be able to waddle.”

            “I’m glad you liked it.”

            Rory closed her eyes and leaned her head further into the cushions. Cullen looked at her and smiled, his hand itched to brush the hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink from the beers they had drunk together. She still had a smile dancing on the corner of her mouth.

             “I’m just going to rest my eyes for five minutes,” she whispered.

             He smiled and picked up his phone to get more work done.

~

            “Cullen? Cullen.”

            An angry voice pulled him from his slumber. Cullen blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. His gold eyes opened and he found Celia standing in front of him, her arms crossed. She was glaring at him, the left side of her jaw clenched tightly. Rory was still curled up beside him, just the top of her head visible.

            “You’re home,” he said with a smile. Then that smile faded the more he looked at her glare.

            “Who’s this?”

            “Oh!” He laughed and shook his head. “Rory. Our neighbor. She stopped by this morning to see if I needed anything from the store. I bought her lunch as thanks.”

            Celia looked around at all the six empty beer bottles on the table and her jaw ticked. Was she jealous? Rory and Cullen were just friends. Neighbors? Was it absolutely crazy to call themselves friends after two days? Rory was a hard person not to like though. He pushed those thoughts aside and once again focused on the angry woman in front of him.

            “I’m working and you have friends over and get drunk.”

            “I did not get drunk. And that’s hardly fair. I did work today. I answered my emails, I returned phone calls. It’s not like I can get up and walk into work, Celia.”

            Rory stirred beside him and Celia went into the kitchen.

            “Hey,” Rory said with a stretch.

            “Hey,” Cullen said awkwardly.

            A cabinet shut harshly and Cullen sighed. Rory sat up and looked in the kitchen where Celia was making a cup of tea. She gave Cullen an apologetic smile and stood up quietly.

            “I’ll get going. Thank you for lunch, Cullen. Let me know if you need anything.”

            She grabbed her purse and left the apartment quickly, shutting the door silently behind her. A silence that was shattered when Celia sniffled.

            _Ah, fuck_

            Cullen ran his hand through his hair. He grabbed his crutches and lumbered his way up. Celia was standing at the counter, a teapot of water steadily heating up on the stove. Maker, she looked tired. He stepped up behind her and could see her tense slightly. Ignoring the protest from his leg, he sat the crutches to the side. Gently, he turned her around to face him and frowned deeply at the hurt on her face.

            “Celia,” he whispered.

            She said nothing and looked down and away from him. When he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, she shut her eyes tighter. Cullen leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her wrinkled forehead.

            “I’m sorry,” he said while he pressed his forehead to hers.

            He drew her into his arms and put his hand on the back of her head. She shook slightly against him with the effort it took to hold her tears in. He hurt her. His arms held her tighter against him when she finally started to cry. The defeated noises broke his heart and filled him to the brim with shame. She had only cried once in their relationship because of something he did. It was their first fight and he had yelled at her. For weeks he apologized to her. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about now.

            “I’m so scared, Cullen.” Her voice was barely a broken whisper. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

            “I am,” he assured her, holding her closer as her arms came up to wrap around his back. “I’m strong enough for both of us.”


	4. Patron Saint of Hallway Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /CairBones/phantom-limb/?eq=phantom&etslf=4866 (Story mood pinterest board) 
> 
> /CairBones/rory/?eq=rory&etslf=2825 (Rory AES pinterest board) 
> 
> *insert shrug emoji here*

           

* * *

 

            The next few days passed by in a monotonous blur. Each morning he woke up, changed the bandage, took his pills, did his stretches, had breakfast, and then…Well, that was the problem. The and then. There wasn’t much he could do. Answering emails only took up so much of his day. Daytime television held no intrigue for him anymore. That was partly his fault. He went through every episode of the house shows in the first two days he was home. Rory had kept her distance, no doubt worried about putting a strain on Cullen and Celia’s relationship. Cullen hadn’t wanted to push her towards speaking to him. Except now, Cullen was standing at Rory’s door, hoping he caught her before work. He knocked and returned to balancing himself on his crutches.

            “Just a second!”

            Maker, seeing her was going to be awkward. Her door opened and ripped him out of his thoughts. She was wearing a summery yellow dress that hit just above her knees, her boots she had in her hand. Rory’s eyes crinkled up and he found himself smiling back.

            “Hi,” he said.

            “Hello. Good to see you up! Come in.”

            She opened the door wider for him and stepped to the side. Cullen shuffled his way in awkwardly and waited in her living room.

            “Maker’s balls, your place is so much bigger than mine.”

            Rory laughed and shut the door. “Yeah. But I moved in here before you, so I got dibs.” She sat on her blue velvet sofa and started slipping her boots on. “Have a seat, Cullen.”

            He sat down next to her, carefully lowering himself with one leg. Her entire apartment felt like her. In the main room, she had one large sofa, two loveseats, and two large plush chairs. There was a piano in the corner between the kitchen archway and the floor to ceiling windows. There were throw pillows and blankets on every seat. She had dozens of pictures and paintings all over her walls. It smelled like sea air and warm bread.

            “I wanted to apologize,” he finally explained.

            “Whatever for, Cullen?” She leaned over her knees and started tying the laces on her boots.

            He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “The awkwardness that happened when Celia came home.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Cullen, if you thought that was awkward, you should come to family dinners. That is a whole mess of awkward.” She sat back up and looked him over. “Are you hungry? I was just about to pull the croissants out of the oven.”

            “You made croissants? Doesn’t that take like,” he tried to remember how many days it was.

            “Two days. You missed fresh ones last night.” She stood up and motioned for him to stay seated. “Coffee?”

            “Yes, please.”

            He wanted to ask her for milk and sugar, but it felt too imposing, even if she did offer. She left the room and disappeared into the kitchen. Okay, so it wasn’t as awkward apologizing as he thought it was going to be. He had worked it up so much in his head, he was certain she would slam the door in his face. Yet, she invited him in and was feeding him.

            Rory came back into the living room carrying a serving tray loaded with croissants and coffee. She looked like an angel.

            “Oh, really? Or are you just happy to have food?” Rory put the tray down on the coffee table and sat back down, tucking her skirt under her as she sat.

            “Both.”

            “Smart answer,” she laughed. “There’s cream in that one and sugar in that. Personally, I take both in mine.”

            “Me as well. I don’t like bitter bean juice. I still have my taste after all.”

            “Bitter bean juice? That is the best way to describe coffee I have ever heard.”

            There were various jams on the tray as well: orange, strawberry, raspberry, something that looked oddly like kiwi… There was a chocolate sauce as well. Rory said she made it that morning.

            “So you like to cook?”

            Rory nodded with a smile and drizzled chocolate over her croissant. “I do. It helps unwind me after a long day.”

            “A long day as an art restorer? Sorry, that sounded judgmental, didn’t it?”

            “Haha! Yes, but I know what you mean. It can be, yes. See, since I’m head of the department I have to deal with people. A lot of people. People who think they know how to do my job better than I do.” She rolled her eyes and took a large bite. “Because I don’t have my doctorates or anything.”

            Cullen cracked open his croissant and smeared a spoonful of strawberry jam on it. It smelled like home, like the pies his mother used to make and let cool on their open window. He used to lay in the strawberry field and eat strawberries until he couldn’t move, soaking up the sun until his face and arms were splattered with freckles.

            “Well if I knew strawberry jam was the easiest way to get you to smile, I would have given you some earlier,” Rory mused.

            Cullen gave a sheepish smile and licked jam off his thumb. “Just old memories. My parents had a small strawberry field in Honneleath. I used to lay out in it and eat the warm strawberries.”

            “Do you freckle when you tan?”

            “I do. I also burn like a lobster now if I’m not careful.”

            “Haha. I burn. So, so badly. And then I go right back to being the color of a marshmallow.” She took a drink and crossed her legs. “Your home sounds nice.”

            “It is. I haven’t been back in some time though.”

            He missed his family. He would be a lying fool if he said that he didn’t.

            “So, do you work today?”

            “I do. I have to be there,” she checked the delicate watch on her wrist, “in about an hour.”

            “I shouldn’t keep you then.”

            “Nonsense. Cullen, it’s only a fifteen-minute commute from here.” She smiled at him and took a deep sip of her coffee. “I hope it’s okay, but I sent Celia flowers.”

            Cullen blinked in surprise. “You sent Celia flowers?”

            “I did. To her office. I felt terrible for Saturday and wanted to make amends.” She added some more chocolate sauce. “I know Mondays are busy for her, so they should be delivered today.”

            “She’ll like that, but you didn’t have to.”

            “I know that. Eat your croissant.” She checked a few emails on her phone and smiled at him. “So what are your plans for today?”

            Cullen shrugged and picked up a second pastry. “I don’t know. I’m due at the hospital at nine for a meeting with the physical therapist. Then…nothing. I thought I might stop by the office, but I think my think my three mothers would kill me.”

            “Your three mothers?”

            “Cassandra and Leliana, you met them. The third is Josephine.” He smiled fondly. “They’re three of my closest friends. And if I show up at the office…”

            “You’re done for.”

            “I am so done for. I’m on paid sick leave right now, so I don’t have to be there. It just,” he paused and sighed.

            “Feels weird?”

            “Yeah. Since I was ten all I’ve ever done was work. First, it was the templars and then security.”

            “That sounds exhausting.”

            It was. It was excruciatingly exhausting. He hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in fifteen years. Not since the bombing. Not since Kirkwall. Not since the circle. His nightmares often drove Celia crazy. Not that he blamed her. He always felt terrible for waking her with them. It was bad enough that he suffered them, but then Celia had to as well.

            “How is your leg feeling today? Is someone taking you to the hospital?”

            “I’ve called a Gryphon. They’ll take me to and from. And it’s…okay. Better now that I’ve been using the crutches. That salve has helped immensely with my ribs and shoulder. I thank you.”

            “My pleasure, Cullen. I’m here for whatever you need.”

            “How about a new leg?”  

            “I’ll get right on that.”

~

            Cullen hadn’t noticed at first how the city had changed since the bombing. Now, out in the crisp morning light, everything seemed so different. People huddled in their coats like they were wearing plate mail. Heads turned down towards the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact. Or, their wide eyes, panicked, flashed rapidly to each person that came towards them. Everyone was waiting for the person next to them to push a button and kill them all.

            He watched them carefully as they drove past, waiting to see something. It wasn’t as if he knew what he was looking for, but he still looked. Relief coursed through him when the driver took them two blocks around the Capital Building. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see what they pulled him out of. At least, he wasn’t ready to see it in person. Things never look as bad as they are when they’re in pictures.

            The physical therapist appointment was an absolute bitch. All they did was mild flexing and stretching, but Maker did it hurt. By the time he left, he was sweating through his shirt. After, he didn’t go to his office. Instead, he wound up at a bookstore. He had meant to go home, honestly, but then the light reflecting off of the windows overtaking the face of the store caught his attention. It had been so long since he had finished a book, since he had even bought one.

            The inside smelled as one would expect a bookstore, but there was also a hint of incense lingering in the air. The old woman behind the counter smiled at him when he walked in but said nothing. Cullen nodded to her regardless and made his way through the aisles. In the first aisle, he found six books he wanted to read. Yet there he stood, at the end of the aisle with six books in his hand and no way to get them to the counter. He needed both hands to work the crutches, and he didn’t want to make the old woman come back and forth to help him. He could just put the books back and come again with Celia–

_Woof._

            Cullen blinked and looked down to his knees where a brown mabari waited patiently at his side.

            “Hello,” Cullen spoke slowly.

            The dog sat and waited patiently for Cullen to notice the basket at his paws. Carefully, Cullen leaned over and sat the books in the basket and watched as the dog picked it up and walked it to the counter. _Handy,_ Cullen thought as he made his way to the next aisle. By the time he reached the art section, he had thirty books up on the counter. Then he found it. A book of Lavenmile’s paintings. It was huge and Cullen wondered if the dog could even get it to the counter in one piece, but sure enough, he lumbered away with the basket.

_I wonder…_

            He made his way over to the biographies and searched for Rory’s name. And then it hit him. He didn’t even know her last name. T, he knew it began with t. _Trevelyan_! There, at the bottom of the shelf was her book. ‘The Hidden Lavenmille.’ Cullen smiled and picked it up and carefully made his way to the counter. He was afraid to hear the total and instead just passed over his card.

            “And how did King help today?” Joy, the old woman, asked him curiously, taking a moment to pass a bone to the mabari at Cullen’s feet.

            Cullen patted the young mabari on the head. “Fantastically. He was a great help.”

            “Good. We like to hear that. He’s a rehabilitated military dog we’re fostering. We’ve learned that he likes having a job to do, so, he carries books for us.”

            “You’re fostering?”

            “Mmhm. He’s up for adoption at the animal shelter on Calenhad St.”  

            Cullen looked back at the dog and smiled.

~

            Mrs. Hornigold carried his books from the cab to the apartment for him. It was a stroke of luck that she was at the doors when he was. At first, he wasn’t going to let her carry the several bags for him, but she snatched them out of his hand and started to trek up the front stoop.

            “I’m just as stubborn as you are, Mr. Rutherford. Only, I’ve had many more years of practice. Come on, keep up with the old woman.”

            Inside his apartment, she went through every book he got before placing them on the shelf in the living room. She smiled fondly when she reached Rory’s book, her fingers tracing the cover lightly.

            “She’s a talented woman, that Rory. She signed my copy, did you know that? Embarrassed her to death, poor humble thing.”

            The patron saint of hallway silence left shortly after that and Cullen got started on dinner. Once he sat down, he knew he would not get back up and the aches of the day would settle in like termites in wood. He turned the news on while he cooked: the talking heads were arguing over whether there would be another bombing or not. There would, it would only be a matter of time. Usually, string bombings happen rather quickly, one right after the other, but given how long it had been since the first, he doubted it would be any time soon. Which meant one of three things: they were waiting for a bigger political gathering, the next bomb was going to be bigger, or, they were waiting for Alistair’s birthday. Or there was another possibility that he wasn’t thinking of. They could–

            “Cullen?”

            The front door shut and he quickly turned the tv off.

            “In here, love.”

            Celia came around the corner while Cullen busied himself setting the table. In her arms was a large bouquet of flowers. Rory had excellent taste; he wasn’t surprised. The bouquet was exactly Celia’s style: clean and simple. There were a few white roses, eucalyptus, dawn lotus, and some other kind of white flower he didn’t recognize, but was rather pretty.

            “Our neighbor sent me flowers for the other night,” she said with a smile.

            “Did she? Those are lovely,” he murmured against her temple when he kissed it. “Dinner should be done in two minutes. The biscuits are almost done.

            Celia smiled and sat the vase of flowers down on the counter. “Did you get out today? I noticed some books on the shelf.”

            Cullen nodded and slipped an oven-mitt on. “I did. I didn’t want to come back right away after my appointment and the driver went by a bookstore, so I figured why not. I found one you might like too. ‘The Royal Deep.’ It’s in there somewhere.”

            “Thank you,” she whispered walking to the fridge. “And your leg?”

            Cullen pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and carefully started throwing the biscuits into a bowl.

            “Good,” he answered. “Still not allowed to do any heavy work, ice and elevation. But, I’m working on the exercises like I’m supposed to, so they think I’ll heal properly.”

            Celia pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge and smiled. “Good. I can’t wait to ravage you again.” She kissed the back of his neck before getting a bottle opener.

            “That makes two of us.”

            That night they curled up together on the couch. Celia went through some of her papers and Cullen read Rory’s book. She was witty and sharp and had a way of describing things that made him feel like he was there. It wasn’t long after that Celia fell asleep against his side and Cullen kept reading. It reminded him of being a child and staying up _way_ past his bedtime to finish a book he was reading. Back in Honnleath there was a small storage closet above his bed that he would crawl into and read until dawn. It’s where he hid his candy stash as well.

            He missed home.

~

_“Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post._

_The taller man smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he walked. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. Still, he had time. He could go back to the car and get it. Then he’d have to go through all the security again. Not worth it._

_“Yes, absolutely_ glorious!” _he answered back._

_Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”_

_Cullen groaned and handed over his id once again. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”_

_Castelo laughed and checked Cullen’s weapon and id before passing them back. Something felt off. Just there, at the back of Cullen’s neck. There was a tightness, a bruising sensation he couldn’t quite shake. His eye shifted to over Castelo’s shoulder. Something wasn’t right. What was it?_ Think, Rutherford, think. _What is it? What’s different?_

_“Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”_

_Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?_

_Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. Why are you smiling? No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…_

_“Sleep.”_

~

            Maker, his head was pounding. Celia was still pressed against his side, her soft breath setting fire to his already scalding skin. Carefully as he could, he moved her from him and covered her up when she stretched out beside him. He wiped sweat from his brow. The contents of his stomach rolled. For a moment he thought he would have to hurry to the toilet. Memories of the boat ride over to Kirkwall brought a new wave of nausea to the surface. Air, he needed air.

            Stiff muscles protested when he pushed himself up on his crutches. He hated the Maker damned things, but they were useful. Even if they did make his underarms burn and ache. As quietly as he could he exited the room to the balcony. His crutches made an annoying noise every time they made contact with the floor. The instant the cold night air hit his flushed skin he felt free. He slid the door closed behind him and made his way to the railing to lean against it. The city looked untouched from where he was. Dozens of tiny speckled lights made him feel bigger than he was, made his problems feel bigger than they were. He ran his hand through his hair again: it was an old habit from templar training. It felt like he was nineteen and trapped in that tower again. Maker, it felt like years before they finally got to him–

            “Can’t sleep either?”

            Cullen jumped at the sound of Rory’s voice next to him. She was curled up in one of her lounge chairs, a heavy wool blanket tucked around her legs. A pair of thin metal glasses were perched on the tip of her nose; he wanted to reach over and push them up for her.

            “Sorry,” she whispered, “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

            He nodded and turned back towards the lights and sea. After a few moments, he sighed and sat on a deck chair.

            “No. I was asleep, but…” he waved his hand beside his head.

            Rory nodded, a silent understanding of how nightmares work. “Did Celia like her flowers?”

            “She did, very much. Why are we whispering?”

            She laughed quietly and ran a hand through her long hair. “There’s a boy on my couch.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrow. “Do you know this boy?”

            “Of course! I mean… well, not well. But yes. His name is Greer.”

            “Boyfriend?”

            “No. Yes.” She sighed and leaned her head back. “I don’t really know. He says yes, I say…well, I say I don’t know. It’s complicated? He’s gone a lot. And I know he sees other people when he’s gone. Which is why I say we’re not dating.”

            “That’s fair.”

            Rory nodded. “That’s what I said.”

            “If he can’t stay faithful, then you shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

            “Thank you!” she said a little too loudly. “Thank you,” she added again, much more quietly. “That’s what I told him.”

            Cullen watched her watch the sea in the distance. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem…attached to him.”

            “I’m not. Not really. He’s a nice guy. The sex is good.” She winced. “Sorry. Was that too much information? And he’s smart too. I just,” she pulled the blanket up further around her, “I just don’t feel a connection with him.”

            “Why are you with him then?”

            Rory smiled sadly and played with the ends of her hair. “I guess,” she finally answered, “I guess I’m just afraid of being lonely. Of not finding anyone else. Maker, I’m nearly thirty and I’ve never had a steady boyfriend. I’ve never even lived with a man.”

            “What’s stopping you?”

            “Me? At least I think it’s me. I think it’d be nice to have someone.”

            Cullen smiles and puts his foot up on the table in front of him. “It is. It is nice.”

            Rory returns his smile and angles her body towards him. There was a foot of free air between their balconies, but it felt like they were right next to each other.

            “When did you and Celia meet?”

            “Twelve years ago,” he answered. “I met her at The Hanged Man in Kirkwall. I was very drunk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I asked her to dance. And you should know I can’t dance to save my life.”

            “That’s a shame. I love a man who can dance. And did she fall immediately in love with you?”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Not hardly. Took me a few weeks to win her over.”

            “Rory?” a sleepy voice called out from inside her apartment.

            Rory sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I should,” she gestured to inside.

            Cullen nodded and watched her get up. She offered him her blanket which he declined politely. His neighbor left quietly, her folding doors closing silently behind her. He sat in the dark for quite some time, eventually the sun started to peak up over the horizon. The sky turned that hazy sort of blue just before it changes to orange.

            _It wasn’t Jim!_

            With shaky fingers, he pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text to Leliana. It was doubtful she would answer it right away, but he had to tell someone. The only question that he had was: if it wasn’t Jim, who was it? Their face was in front of him, but they were blurry. It was almost as if he were looking at them through a fogged over mirror.

            _“Sleep.”_


	5. I Want What I Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is. Something. It's something. 
> 
> Songs Used: 
> 
> Spirits- The Strumbellas   
> Ballroom Blitz- Sweet  
> Why You Wanna Break My Heart- Tia Carrere  
> The American Dream- The Federal Empire
> 
> Pinterest Moodboard- https://pin.it/ jd23zz2wjatc2g

* * *

 

            A few weeks had past and he still remembered nothing more from his dream. A white fog had settled over him and the more he fought it, the thicker it got. Anders finally gave him the go head to do light upper body exercises, nothing above ten pounds for now. The first day he worked out his frustrations so long that his arms were noodles the next day. They had told him he could finally be rid of the crutches, as long as he took it easy. They urged him to use a cane, but he always ‘forgot’.

            Cullen knew eventually he would find himself at the steps of the museum, he just didn’t think it would be so soon. The architecture was a sight to behold: two large gryphons adorned the stairs that led up to the massive archways into the courtyard. He walked through the gardens and into the building to buy his ticket. It was strangely empty that day: only a few people were scattered on iron benches.

            The girl selling tickets asked if he were military and he said no out of reflex. He wasn’t sure why.

            “Cullen!”

            Cullen looked up from making sure his phone was on silent and saw Rory making her way across the spacious lobby.

            He returned her smile and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Rory?”

            “Oh, always Mr. Rutherford.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was in Kent’s office and saw you come in on the monitors.” Delicate fingers pointed to the cameras in the corner.

            “Kent is your security manager?”

            “He is. Very good too. We’re getting a new portrait from Genetivi in tomorrow and I want to make sure security is tight.” She tilted her head at him. “I have some time if you’d like a tour? It’s your first time here, yes? When did you get rid of your crutches?”

            Cullen nodded and looked around the main room. “It is my first time. I didn’t realize it was quite this big.”

            “Six wings and a large sculpture garden out back,” she explained proudly.

            “I don’t want to take up your time.”

            “You won’t. If they need me they’ll find me. Come on, photography is up first.”   

            She led him through the first wing: showed him the photography, the miniatures, the exhibit of paintings they had on loan from Rivain. They walked slowly, Rory careful of Cullen’s leg. His leg which as _throbbing_ by the end of the first wing. They were headed towards the second wing when someone finally came and found Rory.

            “Rory, Demarchiler is here. Again,” the tall elvish woman rolled her green eyes up towards the ceiling, “He refuses to listen to me, he wants to hear it from you.”

            Rory groaned and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Fantastic. Cullen, would–”

            “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll wander around.”

            “I was going to ask if you wanted to see the restoration department?”

            He blinked in surprise. “Oh. I mean… that would be wonderful, but if you have a meeting…”

            “You would be saving us,” the blonde woman interjected. “Really. Besides, you look strong enough to hold Rory back if she tries to stab him.”

            Rory quirked her lips up and gave a short rapid nod. “Lexie does have a point. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

            Cullen followed the two women down a small corridor to an elevator. Lexie wasn’t exactly who he expected to work at the museum. Her blonde hair was cropped close to her head, a pixie cut he thought, only shaved on the sides. She was wearing a red lipstick so dark it looked almost black. Dark green combat boots laced all the way up to her knees, her black jeans were ripped at the thighs. Her shirt was some rock band he had never heard of. She had several piercings in each ear, her septum was pierced, as well as the dip between her nose and lips. The closer he looked, the more he could pick out pastel streaks in her hair. Maybe he should set her up with Rylen? She was his type. And Rylen had mentioned how lonely he was.

He listened to them chat idly about a painting Lexie was working on: matching the paint was giving Lexie fits. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

            “I’ll take a look at it before the end of the day.”

            The doors shut with a squeak.

            “Someone has to, or I’m liable to set it on fire. I don’t even like Gudeness,” Lexie grumbled.

            Cullen breathed slowly in and out through his nose and mouth. _Fucking small spaces,_ he thought bitterly to himself. There was a reason he avoided them like they were disease. He focused on the continuing conversation to distract himself.

            “I don’t care how much that painting is worth. Gudeness was only a brilliant painter for knowing everyone would buy what he did as ‘art’. He threw paint on a canvas, Rory. That’s it.”

            “He didn’t throw paint on a canvas.”

            “Well, that’s what it looks like. Except, no,” she said, “no, because that’s an insult to Chamen because Chamen’s artwork is actually good and he _did_ throw paint on a canvas.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Lexie here isn’t a fan of modern art.”

            “No, I like modern art. I just don’t like someone slapping a bunch of shit together and then telling me it’s art.”

            Cullen nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened. He expected the lower levels of the museum to be dark and musty, but instead, they were well lit and smelled like lemons. They passed by the security office, Rory and Lexie waving to Kent as they passed. He looked Cullen over and gave a short nod before turning back to his computer. Kent was a large man, tall and wide, with black hair and dark brown eyes. His dark tan skin stood out against the bright blue of his shirt.

            The restoration department was at the back of the building in a large room. There were windows on the north side at the very top towards the ceiling. Several tables and large easels took up most of the floor space. There were about four other people working quietly, few wore headphones.

            “Ms. Trevelyan.”

            “Mr. Demarchiler.”

            A man who looked to be about Cullen’s age approached them from the center of the room. His Orlesian accent was thick and rich sounding. Most likely a noble from Val Royeaux. Brown hair was slicked back with far too much pomade that made him look like he dipped it in wax. Even Cullen had to admit his eyes were striking: a bright blue rimmed in a green ring. There were a few wrinkles at the outer corner of his eyes, but other than that his face was untouched by blemishes or lines.

            “Please, Ms. Trevelyan, call me Henri,” he crooned with a smile.

            Cullen resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

            “What can I do for you, Henri?” Rory managed to ask with a polite expression.

            Henri sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull the painting, Ms. Trevelyan.”

            Rory balked at his sudden confession. “I,” she hesitated, “You’re going to pull it? May I ask why?” she asked when he nodded.

            “There’s an issue with the restoration–”

            “You mean there’s an issue with the one performing the restoration.” Lexie narrowed her eyes.

            “Your race has nothing to do with the issue, Ms. Starling. I’m sure you are more than qualified–”

            Rory held up her hand and narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Demarchiler, I can assure you that any racism or sexism will _not_ be tolerated here. And the fact that you have apparently acted in a way to make my _best_ restorer question your motives is unacceptable,” she snapped. “Now, Lexi has been working in her field for ten years and specializes in this type of medium. She has _never_ been questioned before by anyone. If you are that uncomfortable with her performing the restoration, then you are more than welcome, and in fact _encouraged,_ to remove your painting from our care.”

            Cullen did little to hide his smirk from where he was watching a painting being cleaned.

            “Ms. Trevelyan, I assure you that is not the case.”

            “Then you should have no problem with Lexi finishing her impeccable work. Now, if that was all you needed, I’m afraid I have a very important benefactor to get back to.” She didn’t wait for Henri to respond and instead turned her attention back to Cullen. “Mr. Rutherford, please forgive the interruption. Shall we get back to it? Martin, if you would be so kind as to see our guest out.”

            When Henri Demarchiler was out of the room, Rory let out a long breath of air. Lexi muttered a few obscenities and sat back down on her padded stool. She rested her chin on her hands and huffed.

            “I’m not sure I would have held you back from stabbing him,” Cullen admitted.

            “At least you’re honest,” Lexi responded. “I’m tempted to just cover this in a portrait of an elf. Just to piss the little wanker off.”

            Rory kissed Lexi’s temple before she went to stand next to Cullen. “Do you like it?” she asked, gesturing to the painting of the forest before him.

            “I do…not, actually,” he chuckled.

            “I don’t either. Henson was never my favorite painter. There’s no emotion in his work. It’s just…there. Come, I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

            Rory led him over to a corner under the windows to a large statue next to a step stool. The marble statue was of a naked man, his arm drawn up above his head. The entire block was covered in graffiti.

            “This glorious specimen of man is ‘Titus Triadus.’ I’ve been trying to identify the age it was sculpted, but I’m having quite a few difficulties.”

            As Rory explained how it came into their possession Cullen walked around the eight-foot sculpture. It was so incredibly lifelike that Cullen thought for a moment he could see it breathing.

            “It’s been slow going getting all the spray paint off.”

            “And the lipstick print on his cheek?”

            Rory smiled and traced the spot gently with her fingers. “Not paint. See, marble, though beautiful, is very porous. Though, I suspect someone used magic to keep it on. Don’t give me that face. There is plenty of proof that magic existed.” She ignored Cullen’s smirk. “It seems wrong to try and remove it. We’ve someone coming in to test it, see if they can date it. And someone else coming in to try and date the whole sculpture.”

            Cullen nodded and carefully reached out to trace a finger over the marble. He smiled to himself when he found it cold, half expecting it to be warm.

            “Oh,” he stammered and took a step back. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have touched it.”

            Rory shook her head and placed a hand on Cullen’s upper arm. “Statues were made to be touched. Paint, not so much. But Titus here? Made to be worshipped.” She smiled at Cullen and jerked her head to the side. “Come on, let’s finish the tour.”

~

            They got through only half of the museum before Cullen’s leg started to burn. They sat down on a bench in the gardens and enjoyed the cool air. For some time, neither said anything. It was a comfortable silence that seemed like it could stretch on for eternity. Rory sat close to him, her thigh almost touching his. Whenever the breeze would pass through her hair, Cullen could smell her conditioner.

            “Are you doing well then? Are things better with Celia?”

            Cullen thought about that question for a moment before he answered. “They’re getting better. I’m getting better. I think that’s helping. She got scared when I got injured.”

            “That’s understandable.”

            And it was. It was perfectly understandable for her to be afraid after he was hurt. People react to fear in different ways, and she got distant. They were getting better. The fell into silence again.

            “I probably shouldn’t keep you from work any longer,” Cullen finally sighed, shifting on the marble.  

            Rory nodded with a smile and stood up. “It was nice to see you, Cullen.”

            Cullen stood up with her and then stopped. Across the courtyard was a man watching them. He had a smile drawn across his face, white teeth standing out against his skin. The way he was watching them made him nervous.

            “Cullen?”

            He tore his eyes away from the man and looked at Rory. She watched him, bit her lower lip in worry.

            “Sorry, there was,” his words died when he found the spot where the man was empty. “I…I thought I saw someone I knew.”

            Rory nodded. After a few moments with him staring in the same spot, she gripped his upper arm gently. “Cullen, would you like me to call you a Gryphon?”

            “I can. Thank you though.” He smiled at her reassuringly.

            “Okay. I could wait with you?”

            “That isn’t necessary. I’ll catch you around, Rory.”

~

            Rory watched him walk away with a sad expression on her face. The entire walk back to the restoration department was spent worrying about the man.  He didn’t look well: His skin was clammy and he had a faint sweat breaking out on his forehead. The large man looked relatively paler than normal. Maybe she should tell Cassandra?

            “Well,” Lexie said when Rory came back in, “that was a handsome man.”

            Rory blushed and gave a nervous laugh. “He is. He is also engaged, Lexie.”

            “Well damn. He the neighbor?”

            “Mm. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t look well,” she explained. “I would tell Celia, but… I’m worried there’s tension between us.”

            “I hope it’s of the sexual kind,” Dorian cut in, entering the room.

            Rory laughed. “You don’t even know who or what we’re talking about.”

            “No, but sexual tension is always the best kind.” He kissed her cheek. “Any luck with Titus?”

            “Oh, you two can get to that in a minute,” Lexie said on her way over. “I want to hear about this tension. Is it because you fell asleep on Cullen at his place?”

            Dorian raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at his dearest friend. “Oh, I beg your pardon?”

            Rory sighed and sat down on her stool. Completely eye level with Mr. Triadus’s penis. She pursed her pink lips together and turned back around to her friends.

            “I went grocery shopping for him and when I came back he bought takeout and we had some beer. I ate too much and got sleepy. So we fell asleep. Completely innocent.”

            “Mm. And that’s why there’s tension.” Lexi pressed.

            “There’s tension because Celia walked in on it and I suppose it could have looked very incriminating.”

            “Darling, I love you, but that is the most boring story. I’m sorry!” Dorian held up his hands when Rory glared. He started messing with her tools on the table. “But let’s face it dear, the closest you’ve been to a naked man in a while is while you’re polishing that statue’s manbits.”

            Rory scowled and refused to tell them about Greer. Lexi and Dorian both hated him and wanted her to cut off all ties, but Greer was so easy. And in a world where everything was hard, it was nice to have something that was just easy.

            “Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m not going to get that close to Cullen.”

            Lexie wrapped her arms around Dorian’s shoulders from behind and put her chin on his shoulder. “Which is an absolute pity.”

            “Big?” Dorian asked.

            “Huge. Tall. He could give Titus here a run for his money.”

            Dorian gave an appreciative noise and sighed dreamily. “If only.”

            “You’re both terrible.”

            “She fed him croissants,” Lexie added.

            The Tevinter gasped. “Not the croissants!”

            Rory put her head in her hands and groaned.

            “With her homemade chocolate sauce.”

            Dorian fanned himself. “Maker, the divine romance of it all.”

            The two of them laughed when Rory tossed a brush at them. It was hard not to smile with them.

            “He stopped by a few mornings ago to apologize for the awkwardness with Celia. I was eating breakfast, I offered him some. It was not that big of a deal.”

            “Mm,” they collectively hummed.

            “He’s _engaged._ ”

            “C’est la vie,” Lexi grumbled.  

~

            “Come _on,_ Rory. Let’s go. It’s Friday. Let’s go out,” Lexie was laying on her back across a bare table, leaning over the edge with her head upside down.

            Rory chuckled and put her brush down. “You’re a child.”

            “Probably. Come on! Let’s go get tipsy and make fun of people.”

            Rory turned on her stool and smiled at her friend. “You really want to go out that badly?”

            “I do. I think we deserve it after having to deal with Demarchiler.”

            She hummed her agreement and looked down at her clothes. The dress she was wearing wasn’t exactly going out material. Returning home and changing was an option, but it would take at least another hour for them to get anywhere.

            “Come on. I live around the corner; you can borrow some of my clothes.” Lexie sat up and spun around to face her. “Pretty please?”

            “Oh, alright. Come on then.”

            Lexi’s apartment was always a source of wonder for Rory. Over the years she had lived in the large loft, she had accumulated several interesting pieces. There was a large, vintage, wood and gold airplane propeller attached to the brick of a large fireplace in the center of the room. On one wall she had carefully written out every line of her favorite novel in black ink. In the corner was a large white rowboat held aloft from the ceiling that served as a day bed. Another wall had been painted with a large mural of the constellations and a moon about five feet around. Every time Rory went to visit, Lexi had something new.

She followed the blonde up the stairs and to her room. Lexi unzipped Rory’s dress for her and then started to find something to wear.

            “Where are we going this time?” Lexie asked, picking up a leather mini and then tossing it behind her.

            “Cullen introduced me to this dive bar by the docks. Amazing food. We could go there?”

            Lexie tossed Rory a pair of leather moto jeans. Rory looked at them skeptically.

            “Should I put on baby powder first?” she joked.

            Lexie bent over to pick up a bra and looked between her knees at Rory. “They’re silk lined.”

            “Ooh!”

            Rory started slipping them over her bare legs and shimmied to get them over her butt.

            “Should we invite Cullen?” Lexi poked the bear.

            “I’m sure he has better things to do. Hand me that black cami.”

            “Party pooper.” She tossed the article at her and picked up a pair of fishnet tights. She slipped out of her jeans and started pulling the tights over her legs.  

            “Those underwear are cute.” Rory

            “Nothing better than Antivan lace.”

            “Orlesian lace?”

            Lexie scoffed. “I’m getting you lingerie for your birthday next month. You need to see what you’re missing.”

            By the time they got dressed, the sun was disappearing behind the cityscape. Lexie wheeled her motorcycle into the elevator with them before they left. It was one of the good things about living in a loft she said: you could take your bike or motorcycle up with you. There was no need to worry about parking it, or it getting stolen once you did. Rory looked up directions on the way down to the street.

            “I can’t find it. They must not be listed,” Rory said confused.

            “What’s the name?”

            “Safe Harbor. Cullen said it was a dive bar down along the docks.”

            “Call him and ask him.”

            “I don’t have his number. It can’t be too hard to find.”

            Lexi wheeled the bike down the ramp and then looked at Rory. “You don’t have his number.”

            “Don’t start.” She put the helmet on and got on the bike behind Lexi.

            “Unbelievable.”

            “ _Engaged._ ”

            Safe Harbor was harder to find than they thought. There were no cars parked out front, most were probably in the garage around the corner. A small sign above the door was faded and grimed over with years of wear. The sound of water lapped loudly at the brick holding the road up and gulls called softly into the night.

            “Congratulations,” Lexie said and took her helmet off, “you’ve brought us to get murdered.”

            “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

            “Not in a horror movie.”

            Rory slid off the back, putting the helmet on the seat. “Come on, you’re a big bad bi biker, you can take any monster.”

            “You know,” Lexi laughed and got off her bike, “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”

            “Come on! I can hear music even!”

            Rory headed to the metal door and pulled it open with a creak. The music flooded out into the night and the brunette smiled. She held out her hand for Lexi and pulled her inside. The bar was busy, crowded to an extent Rory didn’t expect from a place like that. There was a band on stage, some kind of rock mixed with folk. A crowd of people pushed around the bar, throwing drink orders out left and right.

            “Rory!”

            She turned in circles, looking for the one screaming her name. Lexi stopped her and pointed to a booth that held Cullen and another man waving at them. She waved back and led Lexi through the crowd of people.

            _“I got guns in my head and they won’t, spirits in my head and they won’t go.”_

            “Hey!” Rory leaned up and kissed his cheeks when he stood. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

            “Rylen convinced me to go out.” Cullen held his hand out for them to take the seat he was in and then sat next to Rylen. “Celia’s working late again.”

            Rylen smiled at the pair and took a swig of his beer. “Trying to keep him from becoming a hermit.”

            “A Starkie!” Lexi laughed. “My Da would love to meet you.”

            “Lexie’s dad is from Starkhaven,” Rory clarified, flagging down a waitress.

            Rylen leaned across the table to hear her better. “Good to know I’m not the only bastard in the city.”

            “Oh, definitely not,” Lexie confirmed. “I’ve dated many of them.”

            “Starkies or bastards?” Rylen asked with a wink.

            “Both, but that’s easy when they’re one in the same.”

            Rylen threw a hand over his chest and feigned injury. Lexi smiled and slipped her jacket off.

            “Those are some tattoos,” Rylen remarked, tracing the intricate lines of her half-sleeve tattoo. “Got any more?”

            “Oh, for that answer, you have to buy me a drink.”

            Rory smiled at Cullen while their friends continued their flirting. The Marcher had always been jealous of Lexie’s ability to flirt so well.

            _“Oh, it’s been getting so hard living with the things you do to me.”_

            Rory ordered she and Lexie a drink when the waitress managed to swing by. Cullen looked a little better than he did when she last saw him. He was still pale but didn’t look quite as haggard.

            “So do you two come out often?” Cullen asked over the music.

            Rory nodded and shrugged the leather jacket off. “Usually every Friday.” She tried not to notice the way Cullen’s eyes traveled over her bare shoulders. “What about you two?”

            Rylen laughed and leaned across Cullen to talk closer to Rory. “Not hardly. Getting this one out of the house is like pulling a tooth from a dragon!”

            “I am not that difficult,” Cullen grumbled.

            “Oh, please!” Rylen rolled his eyes. “It’s always, ‘No, Rylen, I have to get this report finished. No, Rylen, I have to send these emails off. No, Rylen, I have to wax my chest. No, Rylen, I have to practice my broody face.’”

            “I do not wax my chest.”

            Rylen gave a pointed look to Lexi and Rory. Rory laughed and pulled her hair out of her face.

            “You better watch it. He may be feeble, but I bet he could take you.” Rory took the drinks from the waitress and made sure to give her a generous tip.

            “I can.” Cullen agreed. “I’ve always been able too.”

            “Lies!” Rylen yelled.

            Cullen took a drink and smiled over the bottle at Rory. Mouthed, ‘I totally can’, before he took another drink.

            “I saw that.” Rylen elbowed Cullen and looked back to Lexie. “So what do you do, Lexie?”

            “Art restorer with Rory. Roller derby every other weekend.” She picked the cherry out of her drink and sucked it off the stem.

            Rylen gave an awed open mouth smile and looked at Cullen. “I’m gonna marry this girl.”

            “If you can catch her,” Rory chuckled. “Lexie here has an issue with commitment.”

            “Excuse you,” Lexie pointed her finger at Rory, “I have an issue with people. Not you though: you’re wonderful,” she told Rory. “She’s wonderful,” she confirmed to Rylen.

            “I am starving,” Rory cut in. “We need to order foo–”

            “Ladies and gents, it’s the girl who broke my heart!” Nat screamed from the bar, looking at Rory with heartsick eyes.

            Several patrons booed and blew raspberries. Rory’s face turned bright red and she sunk down in the booth. Lexie picked up Rylen’s bottle cap and with expert precision nailed Nat in the forehead with it. Rylen laughed so hard beer came out of his nose and he reached quickly for a napkin. The blonde held up her middle fingers and banged her fists together.

            “Makers balls, Lexie!” Rory screamed.

            Cullen hid his smile behind his hand while Rylen gave Lexie a high five.

            “And she has excellent aim. Now you must marry me. I’m lost without you,” Rylen pleaded.

            “I’ll give you a compass.”

            “Oh!” Cullen laughed and clapped Rylen on the back.

            A bottle cap dropped on to the table and all four of them turned to see Nat standing beside it. There was a smirk on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. Rory laughed nervously and fidgeted in her seat.

            “Hey, Nat,” Cullen sighed, leaning back in his seat.

            “Nice aim,” Nat said to Lexi.

            “It’s easy when there’s a large target.”

            “Are you saying I have a big forehead?”

            Lexi smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes, “No, darling, of course _not._ I’m saying you have a big ass _head_.”

            Rylen laughed and shook his head. “You aren’t gonna win this one, mate. And I don’t blame the hostility. Embarrassing poor Rory because you got rejected.”

            Cullen hummed an agreement and gave Rory a sympathetic smile.

            “That was cold, Rory,” Nat sighed. “Very cold.”

            Rory smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, Nat. I should have just said no.”

            “Likely he wasn’t to take no for an answer,” Rylen snapped. “Don’t make her feel guilty because you can’t handle rejection.”

            Nat sighed and had the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention at all, I promise.”

            “It’s okay,” Rory assured him. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

            “Maybe, I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

            And there it was. She knew it would happen eventually. Cullen said he was persistent. He was attractive, Rory would give him that. And he seemed easy. Someone she could have a little fun with, without attachments. It’s not like she had to talk to him if she decided to fool around with him.

            “Nat!”

            An older gentleman screamed from the bar. His white hair was smoothed back out of his face. He glared at Nat until the young man finally went back to the bar, muttering apologies. Cullen waved at him and the man held up a finger before heading back to work.

            “That’s Hack,” Cullen told Lexie and Rory. “He’s a good man. Nat is his cousin’s boy.”

            “He’s very distinguished,” Lexie said, stirring her drink. “Rugged.”

            After a few moments, Hack came over to the table and sat down on the stool he had brought over.

            “Good to see you in, Cullen.” He clapped Cullen on the back and shook Rylen’s hand after. “You too Rylen. Now, who are your friends?”

            “I’m Rory,” she shook his hand gently, “and this is Lexie.”

            Lexie gave a short wave and a nod.

            “Ah, you’re the girl who took Nat down a few pegs. I owe you dinner, my girl.” He smiled fondly at Rory. “I’ve been waiting for someone to do that.”

            “Your place is busier than usual,” Cullen commented, surveying the crowded bar.

            Hack growled and waved his hand. “Ah, Nat’s idea. Booked us a few live bands tonight.” His expression soured. “I didn’t expect this many…unsavories.”

            Cullen laughed deep in his belly. Rory tried not to smile at him. Maker, why was she always smiling with him? She never smiled that much. Or at least she didn’t think she did. Why was she noticing it now?

            “You are an unsavory, Hack,” Cullen suggested.

            “Not the hipster kind,” he turned to Rory and Lexie, “That’s what you call them right? Hipsters?”

            Lexie laughed and put her hand over Hack’s on the table. “Oh, I do like you. Yes, that’s what you call them.”

            “He’s here five minutes and she likes him more than me,” Rylen joked. He leaned back in the booth and swirled the beer in the bottle around gently.

            Hack shrugged and patted Lexie’s hand. “I’m a charming guy. I’ll send your usual out.”

            The older man picked up Lexie’s hand and kissed it before he stood up. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Rory’s offered cheek before he left them.

            “He seems like a good guy.” Rory picked up her drink and sipped it slowly.

            “He is. One of the first people I met in Denerim thanks to Varric.”

            The brunette sighed dreamily and put her chin on her hand. “I still can’t believe you know him.”

            “I’ll get that book signed for you,” Cullen promised.

            “You better. You remember I know where you live.”

            “You couldn’t hurt me, Rory,” Cullen smiled slyly.

            “No,” she said looking down at the table, “No, I don’t think I could.”

            Rylen had turned his attention back to Lexie. Rory wanted to tell him it was hopeless, but it felt wrong to crush his spirits. Lexie could do enough of that on her own. Still, she shared some of Rylen’s hope. Lexie had been hurt before, Rory knew. It wasn’t something the other woman could just move on from, but Rory hoped one day it didn’t hurt as badly.

            “You look like you’re feeling better.” Rory reached and took Cullen’s hand in hers. “I was worried about you at the museum today.”

            Cullen gave her soft hand a squeeze and shrugged his shoulders. “Just got tired is all.”

            She nodded and kept her hand with his.

            “ _Oh, why you wanna break my heart? Sometimes what seems wrong seems so right. Sometimes when we shouldn’t we might, but all I ever wanted was you.”_

            “How, uh, how did it go?” Cullen swallowed. “With the statue?”

            “Oh! Dorian took samples, pictures. He said he’ll be back next week with more instruments to try and help figure out what we’re dealing with. He also thinks the kiss is held there by magic.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and Cullen laughed.

“I hope you two are prepared to be disappointed.”

“You are so cynical,” Rory chuckled.

“I’m just being a realist.”

“No imagination.”

They continued to tease and not flirt. Not one once of flirting. The food came and the group quieted a little. Rory finished her drink and then Cullen’s beer with a smile. He said nothing, just smirked and ordered more. Greer sent her a flirtatious text asking if she was home. She politely turned him down and slipped her phone back into her purse.

The band on stage was leaving and a new one slipping on. A soft guitar played a few notes. Rory gasped and snapped her head to the stage.

_“I smoke weed in the city of a Netflix nation, laying in bed all day stay naked. Never gonna stop until I have it all.”_

 “Are you okay?” Cullen asked, his hand reached out and grabbed hers.

“I love this song!” she screamed over the noise. “Come dance with me!”

Before he was protesting, she was pulling him up and towards the floor in front of the band. It was already crowded with people and she weaved her way through them to get closer.

“I want what I want not what I need! Even if it kills me I’ll be free!” Rory sang loudly, wrapping her arms around Cullen’s neck and swaying with him.

He couldn’t help but smile at her. Despite not knowing how to dance well, he held his own. She took his hands in hers and drew them in an arc up towards the ceiling. Her delicate hands pushed and pulled his whatever way she pleased. Maker, he was stunning. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, tossed her head from side to side.

Every now and again, she sang to him, leaning in close and moving her head. Lexie and Rylen eventually joined them; Rylen sliding up behind Lexie as she danced in front of him. The crowd moved with them and for once Cullen didn’t feel closed in. All he could focus on was the woman in front of him. She didn’t seem to care how she moved, just that she did. It was hypnotizing to watch. His gaze kept falling on the bit of skin that showed when her shirt pulled up above her jeans.

Suddenly, the music stopped and everyone clapped in a one-two rhythm.   
            “I like it bigger, faster, stronger! Give to me louder, harder!” Rory threw her hands above her head as she sang with the crowd.

They kept dancing well into the night. Rylen and Lexie got as close as they could to each other. Their fate was sealed when Lexie leaned up and kissed him fiercely. The band started packing up soon after: a few girls bought them drinks at the bar when they made their way over. Rory was breathless and she grinned wildly at Cullen from across the booth. Lexie let Rylen buy her another drink. She told him he could go home with her, but only if he didn’t get attached. Both Rory and Cullen knew he was lying when he said okay.

“Well I have to give Cullen a ride home,” Rylen said. “I could meet you after.”

“I can get a cab,” Cullen said, finishing his beer.

“I can share one with him. We live in the same building.”

Lexie looked at Rory and frowned. “I don’t want to abandon you.”

Rory chuckled and patted her hand. “You aren’t abandoning me.”

The blonde elven woman turned back to Rylen. “This is just a one-night stand. Just sex.”

Rylen gave her a salute and a boyish smile. He was attractive, there was no denying that, and his smile only made him all the more so. He was just Lexie’s type. Even if she didn’t know it. Rory winked at Cullen.

Their friends left them hesitantly. Cullen and Rory ushered them out with reassurances. Rory called a Gryphon and she and Cullen left together. They said nothing in the back of the black sedan. Eventually, Rory’s head dropped against Cullen’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his warmth, and thought of Celia. The ride through the city was quiet. It was late enough there were hardly any other cars on the road. Cullen woke Rory with a gentle hand on her cheek when they reached their apartment building.

“We’re here, Rory,” he whispered when she stirred.

She stretched and made a purring noise like a cat.

“Already?” she yawned.

“Yes, already.” Cullen smiled and helped her out of the car.

They walked quietly to the elevator, occasionally elbowing the other playfully. Cullen didn’t feel panic in the elevator. Instead, he listened to Rory hum. She watched him happily, the left corner of her lips pulling up. They walked as quietly down the hall as they could. Giggling when they passed Mrs. Hornigold’s room and Cullen walked a little louder.

“Goodnight, Cullen,” Rory said at her door.

“Goodnight, Rory.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before he retreated down the hall to his apartment.


	6. Dinner Parties and Should Haves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others. I'm trying to get this gd plot to actually move forward instead of staying in the same spot.

* * *

 

            A few days after the bar Rory sent over a handwritten invitation for dinner. She had addressed it to both Cullen and Celia and had slipped it into their box downstairs. The envelope was a pale blue with gold flecks in the fibers. The back was sealed with a gold wax impression of a ship on the water. Cullen got a knife from the kitchen and carefully sliced the seal away from the paper. It smelled like lavender the more he handled it. He pulled out heavy weighted paper that had a gradient of white to a light blue at the bottom. Rory’s script danced elegantly across the page.

            She was inviting them to a dinner party she was having on Friday night at six. The words small and intimate caught his attention. He quickly sent Celia a message telling her to save the night so they could attend. Naturally, she declined but told him she would pick up a bottle of wine for him to take in her place.

            He sighed and rubbed his face and decided that it wasn’t worth the argument. The signed copy of Varric’s newest book sat next to him and he decided to wait to give it to her. He had brown paper to wrap it in somewhere. And maybe a bow left over from last holiday.

            Rylen had texted him: he had spent the entire weekend with Lexie before she sent him on his way home. He swore he had fallen irrevocably in love with her. The proclamation of love was nothing new for Rylen, Cullen knew. The man was like Alistair in that sense: they both fell quickly in love.

            Cullen gasped and grabbed at his calf, rubbing it gently through his pants and bandages. It was starting to ache more and more. He put it off as doing too much too soon. Regardless, he made a note to call Anders and come in for a checkup on it.

            _It’s just your nerves regenerating, Rutherford._

~

            Friday came quicker than he thought it would. He stood in front of the mirror in the hallway and straightened his silver tie for the eighth time that night. The book for Rory was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a soft purple velvet bow– Celia’s touch. A bottle of white wine sat next to it. It was fifteen to five, but he couldn’t wait any longer than he already had. He picked up the book and the bottle of wine, slipping both under his arm so he could use the cane.

            He felt like an old man using it, but it was better still than the crutches. There was a soft music already coming from Rory’s apartment. It drifted dreamily out into the hallway. He knocked twice and waited a few minutes before the door opened.

            Rory greeted him with a smile and kissed his cheeks before drawing him in.

            “No Celia?” she asked with a hint of disappointment.

            “Afraid not,” Cullen said. “She had to work late. She did send her apologies though.”

            “Well, I’m glad at least you could come.”

            Cullen returned her warm smile. “I have something for you.” He passed over the bottle of wine and then the book.

            “Oh, thank you! Come in and I’ll put this in to chill and then open your present. Dorian and his fiancé should be here shortly. Lexie is also coming, but I doubt she’s bringing anyone,” she explained on her way through to the kitchen. “She said Rylen stayed the whole weekend.”

            “He’s in love with her, he said. ‘Irrevocably.’”

            Rory’s laugh was soft and held a tinge of pity. “I shouldn’t fault Lexi. I think I’m doing the same thing to Greer.”

            “Stringing him along?” Cullen winced at the bite in his tone. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant.”

            Rory smiled faintly and put the wine to chill. “Maybe, but you’re right. To be fair, I think he’s doing the same to me. Or, he at least thinks he is.”

            She sat at the table in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Cullen joined her and looked out towards the sea. Her lithe hands carefully untied the ribbon on the package.

            “Was the ribbon Celia’s idea?”

            “It was. She said the paper looked too plain. I hope you like it. I had to sell a kidney to get it.”

            “Oh dear.” Rory slipped the brown paper covering off and then gasped softly.  “Is this…” she opened the cover and laughed excitedly. “It is! Oh, Cullen, it’s perfect!”

            “He sent it over a few days ago, but I decided to wait until tonight to give it to you.” Cullen watched her eyes trace over the cover of the book. “He said he’s pretty sure you and Cassandra are the only two that read that series of his.”

            Rory reached over the table and took Cullen’s hand in hers. “Thank you so much, Cullen.”

            Cullen nodded and felt a blush rise slowly on his cheeks.

            “Now I have a favor to ask of you,” he said and withdrew his hand from hers. “I recently purchased a copy of your book, did I tell you? When I’m finished reading it, I’d like you to sign it.”

            Rory groaned but looked pleased nonetheless. The front door opened and she stood up to go greet her guests.

            “Darling? We came early in case you needed help with anyth– oh, there you are. Anyway, we came early to see if you needed help with anything.”

            “Cullen?”

            “Bull!”

            Cullen stepped forward around Rory and took Bull’s hand in his own. Bull pulled him in for a one-armed hug and laughed.

            “So this is Dorian?” Cullen asked when they let go of each other.

            “I’m hurt that you haven’t talked about me enough that all your friends know who I am,” Dorian joked.

            Cullen caught a brief glance Dorian threw at Rory. It was one that made her blush faintly. He turned his attention back to Bull and clapped him once on the arm before he let go of his hand.

            “It’s good to see you,” he said.

            “And you as well. You don’t look as shit as you did,” Bull said with a smile. “Celia ditch you again?”

            “She did not ditch me.”

            Dorian and Rory left Cullen and Bull to speak in the living room. In the safety of the kitchen, while Rory was flittering around preparing the rest of the food, Dorian started his questioning.

            “Cullen Rutherford. That’s your neighbor?”

            “What do you know about him?” Rory asked curiously.

            Dorian scoffed and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. What did he know about him indeed. He took two glasses from the cupboard.

            “That Bull can’t stop talking about him.” He opened the wine with a pop. “Apparently he’s an excellent strategist. Works in “security” with Bull. But I think you and I both know that’s code for something.”

            Rory pulled the lamb ribs with honey and tamarind sauce out of the oven to rest.  

            “Bull respects him, so I know he has to be a good man.” He poured two generous glasses and sat one in front of Rory.

            “I could have told you that.”

            Dorian hummed and leaned against the counter. The wine was sweet and crisp and slid over his tongue. He crossed one arm over his chest and sighed. It was a sigh that signaled playfulness.

            “So Cullen is the one you fed croissants?”

            “Yes. I fed him. Now we must be married on the morrow.”

            “If only,” he teased. “He’s very handsome.”

            “He is. He’s a good friend.” Rory took a drink of wine and then stepped closer to Dorian. “I’m worried about him though,” she whispered. “He’s been acting odd. The other day at the museum he stared off into space for a few moments. He said he saw someone, but there was no one else in the courtyard. And he’s much paler than usual.”

            “You’ve mentioned, but have you told him?”

            “That I’m worried about him? No. I’m just going to keep an eye on him. I have Cassandra’s number, she’s his friend, I can tell her if I get too worried.”

            “You two talking about us?” Bull asked when he entered the room.

            “Always, my love,” Dorian replied before he kissed Bull.

            Cullen took a deep whiff of the air. “I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it sounds amazing.”

            Rory nodded her thanks and laid out the menu for them. Zucchini, fennel, and mint soup for starters. Followed by a chicory and blood orange salad. The main course was lamb ribs with honey and tamarind sauce with jeweled rice. For dessert, she was serving a pulp cake with mascarpone frosting and blueberries and an apple cake.

            These once a month dinner parties offered her the chance to explore other cuisines and refine her cooking. This dinner, however complicated it may seem to outsiders, was tame compared to her previous endeavors.

            “She cooked twelve courses once,” Dorian explained.

            “I ate so much I couldn’t move for two days,” Bull said. “I even called off work. Totally worth it.”

            “The one time I think I’m early!” Lexi calls out from the living room.

            Rory and Dorian sat the table. Cullen tried to help, but he was swiftly made to sit down. Bull opened a few more bottles of wine and sat them on the table. Lexi sat beside Cullen and drained her glass of wine.

            “Where’s this fiancé of yours, Cullen? I’m beginning to think you made her up.” Lexie held her glass up and Bull refilled it with a chuckle. “Rory says she’s real though. It’s not just you in a wig, is it? Because that is a level of weird I can’t handle.”

            Cullen took a sip of his wine with a smirk. “I’m afraid I’m not very pretty as a woman. She’s working late. There’s a big project coming up at work so she’s working overtime.”

            Lexie gave a nod and let the subject drop. He was thankful for that. The more he talked about it, the angrier and more annoyed he got.

            The soup was delicious. Rory said it could be served hot or cold, but she preferred hot. There was fresh bread on the table that reminded Cullen of his mother’s. It was at dessert, seated around the large sectional sofa, that the conversation got heated.

            “I just don’t understand,” Rory started, “how you don’t believe in magic.”

            Dorian nodded and gestured with his hands.

            Cullen shrugged and took another bite. “I just don’t. There’s not nearly enough evidence for me to believe it.”

            “Are you a chantry man, Cullen?” Dorian asked curiously.

            “Of course.”

            Dorian nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Do you know there are dozens of old chantry endorsed books that talk about magic? ‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’”

            “Yes, but what they saw as magic, we see as science,” Cullen explained. “Our ancestors saw a lot of things that they didn’t understand, so they called it magic.”

            Lexie and Bull sat back in their seats and watched the discourse take place. Neither of them really cared about the arguments taking place.

            “Have you figure out anything about the sculpture?” Cullen asked, trying to change the subject.

            Dorian nodded excitedly. “Rory and I determined it to be from the Divine age.”

            “I still haven’t been able to figure out who sculpted it though. I don’t know if we’ll ever know,” Rory added. It was disappointing that they didn’t know who created it, but it wasn’t terribly uncommon with pieces that old.

            “And the lipstick print?”

            Dorian sighs and leans back, declining another piece of cake. “No. We’ve tested it, but the results won’t be back for another few weeks. Short of chipping off a piece– A small piece!” he added hastily when Rory glared. “It’s hard to say exactly how the lipstick is still on it. It might not even be lipstick. It could be paint.”

            “Could be,” Cullen added.

            “Wouldn’t it be just fascinating if it weren’t?” Dorian asked with a gleam in his eyes.

            “Look, reading about demons is enough to make me hope that they never existed in the first place,” Bull grumbled. “That’s some freaky shit I never want to deal with.”

            Rory laughed and cut herself another slice of cake. “Of course, but think of the usefulness!” Her entire face lit up. The wine had left a lovely flush to her cheeks. “Medicine would forever be changed. The possibilities are endless.”

            Cullen would admit that it did sound wonderful. But there were too many unknowns. Too many what-ifs. And those were dangerous.

            Dorian cuddled up against Bull and sighed happily. Cullen felt a well of envy spring forth in himself. They looked so completely happy together. Bull was never late for their dinner: he always insisted on leaving the building at five. On more than one occasion, Bull stopped and bought flowers on his way home. Cullen envied them.

            That night he laid awake in bed watching the lights on the ceiling. Celia didn’t come home until the dawn hours. Cullen pretended to be asleep as she slipped into bed.

~

            The next week was hectic for Rory. Six new paintings had been accepted into the museum. They had to be authenticated, submitted into the database, and then cleaned. Every restorer Rory had was already at work on at least two paintings already. More people were needed, but convincing the museum to hire more was nearly impossible. They were already working over time. There was little else they could do.

            Rory stayed later than normal that night. She was the last employee in the building beside the security. Normally, she wouldn’t have stayed so late, but she wanted to get ahead on the Titus sculpture and get started on the new paintings they just got in. The tests Dorian had done on the lipstick print came up null. It was frustrating, to say the least.

             She found Gabe in his office and ducked in to say goodbye before she left. He offered to walk her out, but she declined. The museum never scared her at night. It was peaceful. The only area that really creeped her out was the sculpture garden with all the lifelike pieces. If you weren’t careful, it could look like they were moving. She avoided it.

            Edgar let her out of the building and told her to be safe, get her pepper spray out. She did. No matter where she was going, she always kept her hand on it. The street the museum was one was referred to as the college strip. Denerim University, the art museum, the annex, the history museum, the science and industry building, were all on the same street. For the most part, the twelve blocks where peaceful.

            In hindsight, she probably should have called a Gryphon or tried to catch a cab. Hell, she probably should have taken the train instead of walking. But the night was calm and cool. It was quiet and she could think without interruption. And the train held distractions and just as much danger as the streets. She took her phone out and sent Lexi a quick text before she slipped it back into her coat pocket.

            Five blocks from home thunder rolled over her head. It almost drowned out the sound of footsteps behind her. Almost. She hurried quicker, went to turn a corner and then she was shoved into the brick wall of a building. She cried out, the rough surface of the brick scraping her cheek and chin. She was spun around, a harsh grip bruised her arms. She drove her foot into the man’s groin, then quickly turned to run down the street. She should have pepper sprayed him, but all that was in her head was running. She got ten feet before he pushed her.

            It always seemed strange to her that in action movies, the characters dramatically fell in slow motion. Yet, there she was, falling as if she were in slow motion. Thunder rolled slowly. She saw her hands stretch out in front of her. The sidewalk rose up to meet her hard. Delicate knees busted open, palms grated on the concrete. The pepper spray rolled out of her purse and she grabbed it, clutching it in her hand like it was the only thing to save her.

            Her body turned, arm stretched out and she held the nozzle down, emptying the can into his approaching face. He grabbed at her with a scream but she was already gone. All that time running track in college paid off. She turned the corner just as the first few drops of the storm started to hit. Her skin vibrated with the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. She pushed her way past a group of college students and kept running.

            Home, she needed to get home. The apartment building came up before her sooner than she thought. With shaky fingers, she fought with the doorknob before it finally opened before her. She ran up the stairs, tripping as her feet got caught underneath her. First floor, second floor, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and then finally the seventh. She reached her door with gasping breaths and stuck her hand down into a purse that wasn’t there for her keys.

            Her soft cry was muffled in the hallway. Her purse, she must have dropped her purse. Straightening her skirt and top as much as she could, she made her way to Cullen’s door. She wrapped her coat around herself and then carefully knocked on the door. Celia’s muffled laughter wormed its way through the door before it opened.

            Rory wiped frantically at the tears on her cheeks and straightened what she could of her hair.

            Celia’s smiled faded the minute she laid eyes on Rory’s disheveled state. “Rory? Maker, what happened? Come inside.” She reached forward and pulled Rory in by her hands. “Cullen! Cullen, come quick!”

            Rory sniffed and let Celia pull her inside gently. “I’m sorry, but I…I dropped my purse and I’m locked out.”

            Cullen quickly came into view, his face steeled. Rory tried to smile at him when she saw him. Instead, all that came out was a soft sob. Cullen rushed forward as best he could and took Rory into his arms.

            “Celia, can you find the first aid kit?”

            “Yes. Find out what happened. I’m going to call Rylen.”

            Rory responded to Cullen’s hug stiffly at first, then wrapped her arms around him. She sobbed against his chest, her gasps shook her body against him.

            “Shh, it’s okay. Come now, love.” He stroked his hand over her mussed hair. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

            His voice took on an edge that almost scared her. It threatened pain to whoever laid a hand on her. The longer he held her, the harder she cried against his chest.

            “I knew better. I should h-have taken the t-train,” she gasped out.

            “What happened, Rory?”

            She told him. Every little detail she could remember about what happened, she told him. All the while he held her closely, drawing his hand over her back. Celia was waiting by the couch, a deep frown pulling the corner of her lips down.

            “Rylen’s on his way,” Celia said. “You’ll stay here tonight.”

            Cullen nodded his agreement but kept hold of Rory.

            “I don’t think any of my clothes will fit you, so I brought out a couple of Cullen’s things. Would you like to shower? You could shower…”

            Rory shook her head. She could feel herself slowly calming down. The warmth of Cullen’s body was fighting the bitter cold in her bones.

            “Call Rylen back, tell him to send a squad down to the corner of the strip and Calenhad. He’ll be blind for about forty more minutes.”

            She picked up the shuffle of Celia’s feet back into their bedroom. A soft sigh escaped against Cullen’s shirt. Slowly, she pulled herself back from him and wiped at her eyes. Cullen looked down at her with a delicate frown. She wanted to reach up and smooth out the crease between his eyebrows.

            “Come on,” he said quietly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

            Cullen moved her to the couch, carefully making sure not to hit her with his cane. She sat down, wincing as the scrapes on her knees pulled open. He sat down on the lounge and drew her legs into his lap carefully. His fingers undid the zippers on her boots and pulled them off.

            “It’s not your fault,” he finally said to her. “It was not your fault.”

            Slowly, he rolled her stockings one at a time down from mid-thigh, carefully over her knees, and over her feet. Rory shuddered when his knuckles brushed against her chilled skin. He was being so careful with her. Before she knew it, she was crying again, huge heaving gasps. Her hand covered her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut so as not to see the frown on Cullen’s face.

            “I’m sorry,” she shuddered out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

            Cullen smiled and pulled a few cotton balls and the alcohol out of the first aid kit. “Adrenaline,” he said. “It’ll wear off.” He soaked the cotton in alcohol. “This might sting a little.”

            Rory nodded and watched as he gently wiped at the blood on her knees. She hissed and jerked her knee. Cullen tenderly took the back of her knee in his hand and held it while he worked. Honestly, she hadn’t expected him to be so tender with her. Each time she jerked from the sting, he rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on the outside of her knee.

            “Rylen did as you asked,” Celia interrupted. “I’ll go down to the super’s office and leave a note that you need your locks changed, Rory.”

            “Thank you, Celia,” Rory whispered.

            The black-haired woman left quietly, submerging the apartment in the quiet muffles of the news. Cullen still worked diligently on Rory’s knees, not looking up when Celia left.

            “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Rory whispered.

            “You didn’t. Rory, I’m glad you came to m-us for help. Really. I’d hate to think of you being alone out there right now.”

            Cullen placed salve and a bandaid before he moved on to the next knee. He worked in silence after that and Rory let him. Every so often, her breath would stutter a little too hard and he’d look up at her with concern. She didn’t bother smiling. Instead, she focused on his hands: they were big, much bigger than her own. His fingers were long, some of them slightly crooked from being broken. There was a scar across the back of his left hand. Judging from the paleness of it, it happened a long time ago.

            Cullen cleared his throat before he spoke, “You’ll want to report your cards stolen.”

            Rory nodded numbly, trying not to think about everything she’d have to do. New i.d, new cards, new everything. Why did she drop her purse?

            “Don’t. Don’t do that,” Cullen said as he moved to the cuts on her palms. “You had one thing in mind and it was to survive. And you did. Everything else can be replaced.”

            Her stomach tightened as he held her hands to work on them. She pushed the feeling down. _He’s engaged, Rory._ Maker, he smelled so good.

            “Cullen?”

            “In here, Rylen.”

            Rylen entered the apartment quietly, slipping keys into his pocket. Crystal clear teal colored eyes sharply took in the state of them: Rory with her legs still in Cullen’s lap, his hands holding hers. There was no doubt a blush on her cheeks.

            Rylen shook the rain out of his hair and stepped over to them. He smirked at Cullen, who quickly glared in a way that said: “knock it the fuck off.”

            “Are you alright, Rory?” Rylen sat next to Cullen and observed her carefully.  

            She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

            Cullen patched up her hands and moved on to her face. He leaned in close so he could see what he was doing. His breath ghosted over her lips and she tried not to shudder, or blush.

             “Can you tell me what happened?” Rylen asked softly, taking one of her hands in his.

            Rory nodded and tried to look his way when Cullen turned her face back to his.

            “Cullen… Can you wait? I…Maker, I’m worried my breath smells and you’re all in it.”

            Cullen chuckled and wiped at the blood on her chin and cheek. “Your breath doesn’t stink. Besides, even if it did, it couldn’t be worse than Rylen’s morning breath.”

            “Now that is just a rude thing to say.” Rylen glared. He ignored Cullen’s chuckle and proceeded with his questions.

            Rory answered them all as best she could and tried to give a good description of the attacker. She was looking out of the corner of her eyes at him. When she looked back to Cullen her breath stopped in her throat. His amber eyes were staring straight into hers. Before, she always thought it was cheesy and an exaggeration when romance novels described getting lost in a person’s eyes. They were just eyes. But Cullen’s… Maker, there was something about him that just stopped her thoughts.

            She swallowed and looked away quickly.

            “Ow!”

            “Sorry,” Cullen murmured. “Hold still.”

            “Well,” Rylen sighed, “have some good news: your purse was found in the alley you were attacked in. The only thing missing is the cash in your wallet and your keys. So whoever he was was smart enough not to take your cards.”

            “But he could have her address,” Cullen added.

            Rory swallowed her worry.

            “Thank you, Captain Dread. Yes, that is a possibility. Rory, what were the keys for?”

            “The apartment and the museum. But the keys only work inside the museum and only for filing cabinets. Everything is key-code now.”

            Rylen nodded and jotted down a few notes.  

            “I left a note with the super,” Celia said as she shut the apartment door behind her. “In the meantime, I think you should stay with us.”

            “I agree,” Cullen finished putting the band-aid on her face while he spoke.

            “So, he’s still out there?” Rory whispered.

            “Aye, he is,” Rylen answered honestly. “But, he can’t see worth a damn. They found the pepper spray you used. High-grade stuff. He won’t be able to open his eyes without pain for at least an hour. If he’s close they’ll find him.”

            “My purse?”

            “We’re going to check it for prints and get it back to you by tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.”

            Cullen nodded and ran his hand soothingly over her calf. Rory swallowed and tried not to draw attention to it. She tried, but she was so cold and his hands were so warm that she couldn’t help but to pay attention to it. It was a comforting gesture, she knew that, but all she wanted to do was curl into him.

            Rylen stood up and motioned for Cullen to walk him out. Rory slid her legs off of his lap and let him follow. She sat there for a little longer and let the chill take over her again.

            “Here,” Celia said gently. She had picked up Cullen’s clothes and was holding them out for Rory to take. “You’re more than welcome to any of my face wash and things… there’s an extra toothbrush in the drawer beside the sink.

            “Thank you, Celia,” she whispered and took the clothes from Celia’s hands.

            “Of course, Rory. I’ll get some extra blankets and pillows for you.”

            Rory murmured her thanks again and headed for their bathroom. The door shut softly behind her and she took a few minutes to lean against it. After a few moments, she pushed herself away and set the clothes on the vanity. The face looking back at her in the mirror was a sight to see. Her hair had fallen out of its tight bun, her mascara had smudged off under her eyes, her lip and chin were starting to swell. The scrapes Cullen hadn’t covered with a band-aid were red and angry, but they had stopped bleeding.  Small blessings she knew. She didn’t wash her face, there was no point yet. Her lips hurt when she brushed her teeth, but she did it anyway.

            The clothes Celia gave her hung off of her. She pulled the drawstring as tight as she could on the plaid pajama bottoms. She resisted the urge to smell his shirt as she slipped it on.

            Cullen came back into the apartment just as she was settling in on the couch. Her entire body was starting to hurt now. She felt raw and flayed open. Cullen sat next to her and sighed. She dropped her head to his shoulder and sat quietly. After a few moments, he slipped his arm around her.

            “You’ll be okay,” he murmured against her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my lovely little readers. A few days ago I got a review, since deleted, and I want to talk to you all about it. Because apparently, this is high school. Someone with the username stopmissusingtags left me a review. Now, the subject of the review I have no issue with. They asked that I consider moving the Dorian/Bull relationship tag to the additional tags. Which is a reasonable request and one that I understand and that is valid. However, this is what I take issue with: you came to me under a pseudonym that's just plain rude instead of coming to me with your actual name. Or, as a guest. And then, the overall tone and nature of your review was extremely condescending and passive-aggressive. 
> 
> Listen, if you have a problem with the way I tag things, or if you think tags should be added or removed, you come to me personally, or as a guest, and you say, 'Hey, could you maybe do this?' And the answer is yes, yes I can. I don't respond well to shit like this. I am too old and too tired. I'm also spiteful, bitter, and vindictive. So, the next time something like this happens, please just come at me straight. I will respond much better.


	7. Friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the reviews. I know I may not respond to all of them, but I really do love reading them. Kind of a short fast moving chapter, but I'm still trying to move us forward into the plot.

* * *

 

Strong rolling thunder shook the large glass windows in Cullen’s apartment. Rory stirred slightly on the couch and felt her body ache in protest. When she moved her knees she could feel the scabs opening up under the bandages. Her face felt swollen and busted open. The dried blood on her chin flaked when she yawned.

            “Morning,” Cullen whispered. “How are you feeling?”

            Rory pushed herself up and grimaced. “Sore. Embarrassed.”

            Cullen frowned but passed her a mug of coffee. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not your fault.”

            Rory took the coffee gratefully and let it warm her hands. “What time is it?” She didn’t feel like arguing.

            “Eight,” he snapped. Then, a little more gently than before. “It wasn’t your fault, Rory.”

            She looked at him then, long and hard, let the silence stretch on between them. Finally, after some time, she turned her gaze away and swallowed. The coffee mug was burning her fingers, but she held fast to it.

            “That’s a hard thing to come to terms with. I knew better, Cullen. I don’t know what came over me.”

            He sighed and took a drink of his own coffee. “You thought what everyone thinks. That you’re safe. Do you think I expected to walk into that building and have a bomb go off? You were just walking down the street. I was just going to work.”

            “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she mused.

            His chuckle was coated in sleepiness. “My point is: no one ever thinks anything bad will happen to them.”

            “Maybe for a man. Or a very naïve woman. I am neither, Cullen.” Rory sighed and curled her sore legs under her. “Cullen, every day I leave the house I make sure I have my mace. Lexie makes sure she has her switchblade. On my walk back to the apartment from the train station, I make sure I have my keys between knuckles.” She watched him take the information in. “Women are always prepared for something bad to happen to them. We’ve been conditioned since we were little girls. Don’t walk alone at night. Don’t go to a party alone. Don’t wear revealing clothing. Don’t get drunk. I knew better. I slipped up and got smacked down for it.”

            The feeling of idiocy crept up again. She _knew_ better. Her thoughts spiraled down a rabbit hole and she went unwillingly. Hazel eyes unfocused on the rain outside the window. Instead, she focused on the pain, grounded herself in it. New scars for a new lessons, she told herself.            

Cullen’s hand on her wrist snapped her out of it. Her eyes struggled to refocus on his in front of her.

“Rory.”

For a moment, it almost sounded like he was begging her. Begging her to forgive herself, to accept it wasn’t her fault. She knew, somewhere that it wasn’t her fault. That men should be held accountable for their actions. She knew this and still, still she struggled with it. Years of ingrained internal misogyny refusing to give up its hold.

“I need to call Lexie.”

Cullen let the conversation slide away and went limped heavily into the kitchen. Rory dug her phone out from the couch cushions. A quick swipe of the screen told her she had six unread texts and four missed calls. Two from her brother, one from Dorian, and one from an unlisted number. The texts she would worry about later, for now, she tried to focus on calling Lexie. Lexie who would panic, Lexie who would no doubt drive halfway across the city to check on her. Still, she pulled up her name, hit send, and waited.

“Morning, babe! I expected you to be here already. Actually, I expected you to have slept here with all that’s happening.”

“No, I’m…I’m taking a sick day today.”

“What’s happened?”

Rory could practically hear Lexi stop in her tracks. “I’m alright.”

“You tell me what happened right now.”

She pulled the thick blanket up around herself and breathed in Cullen’s cologne. How best to tell Lexi so she didn’t panic?

“I was attacked on the way home last night. I’m okay, I used my pepper spray. Rylen had everyone out looking for the guy. I haven’t checked my messages to see if they caught him or not.” She quickly continued before Lexie could interrupt. “My locks are being changed today. He didn’t take any of my credit cards or anything.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for some time. Rory’s ears barely picking up the museum activities in the background. She could picture Lexie standing in the hallway, in the middle of everyone’s way. Most likely drumming her nails against her hip.

“Lexie?”

There was a hum on the other end. “Still here.” She cleared her throat. “I’m still here. I’m just trying to figure out how to find him first and kill him. I bet I could get Rylen to let me have a shot at him.”

“Don’t manipulate that man. He’s sweet.”

“You’re really okay?”

Another sigh. She shoved her hair out of her face and rested her forehead against her forearm.

“No. I’m busted and bruised, but that’s the worst of it. Cullen tells me I’m not to blame myself–”

“Cullen is a smart man. You shouldn’t blame yourself. You are never responsible for the actions of someone else. They make choices, you make choices. You are not responsible for theirs. Do you hear me?”

Rory smiled despite herself. “Yes, Ma.”

“Look, I’ll handle shit here,” the whoosh of the doors opening, “don’t worry about that. I’ll come by after work. Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I know I don’t, but I’m going to anyway because that’s what you do for people you love.”

“I love you too, Lex.”

“You know you’re the only one I’m committed to.”

“I know that–”

There was a large crash in the kitchen followed by a hiss. Rory jerked her head towards the arch and waited.

“Lexie, I have to go. I’ll call you.”

She hung up quickly, tossing her phone next to her. Getting up proved more difficult than she had anticipated and her body protested loudly.

“Cullen?”

“I’m alright!”

Slowly, she shuffled her way into him, her wounds opening under her bandages. At first glance, she saw no sight of Cullen. Then, on the floor behind the counter, a foot stuck out to the side.

“Oh!” Rory rushed as quick as she could around the side and knelt down next to him.

“I’m okay.” He scooted himself to rest up against the cabinet and sighed. “Just…my leg. It’s been acting up.”

Rory reached out and put her hands on his calf. It felt hot to the touch, even over the bandages.

“What’s the doctor say?”

“That it’s just the nerves healing or making connections or something. It’s just this shooting pain up my leg.” He rubbed it beside her soft hand and grimaced. “I just wish it wouldn’t hurt so badly.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not so bad now.”

As much as she could, she helped him stand. Between the two of them, it only took a couple of minutes before he was upright and braced against the white countertops.

“Look at us,” Rory chuckled.

“C’mon,” Cullen dropped an arm around her shoulders, “let’s get you clean bandages.”

~

The super came by just before lunch and changed the locks on Rory’s door. She and Cullen stood behind him and watched, noticing how he replaced the screws on either side as well.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“Ah,” he said, waving his hand, “You two are some of my best tenants. Just sorry I couldn’t get up here sooner today. 2C had a pipe leaking under their sink and their whole floor was soaked. Gonna have to redo the floors.”

Rory nodded sympathetically and tried to keep from picking at the new scabs on her hands. Cullen shifted his weight next to her and grimaced. She wanted to push him into going back to the doctor but knew it would be futile. The man was stubborn. Still, it didn’t seem like nerve pain to her. It couldn’t hurt to double check. Maybe he should talk to the surgeon instead, she wondered.

“There you are. New locks. You’ll be okay up here?” Charlie asked, looking between the two of them standing so close.

Rory nodded, “I will, Charlie, thank you.”

The older man nodded and passed her a key before he turned down the hall and left.

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said turning to him, “For everything.”  

He nodded and then she was hugging him. Her arms wrapped tight around his chest, hands fisted in the back of his shirt. Cullen hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He felt solid against her. His arms were heavy against her back, his hand cradling her neck, fingers rubbing at her hairline.

“Anything you need, Rory. I’m here.”

“You’re a good friend, Cullen.”

Rory looked up at him, eyes lingering over his lips a moment too long. She opened her mouth, eyes darting back to his full bottom lip. _Maker, what is wrong with me!_ Cullen leaned forward, his eyes searching hers for some unspoken permission. A sign it was acceptable, it was wanted.

“Rory?”

The moment snapped, the thread connecting them burnt in the flames. Rory stepped back quickly, nearly stumbling. Greer approached her at a run, concern twisting his pleasant features into something else.

“Maker, love! What happened? Are you okay?”

His hands gripped the tops of her arms tightly when he reached her. Cullen stepped back, rubbed his neck and swallowed.

“I’m okay. Cullen helped,” Rory explained quickly. She glanced at Cullen, her eyes flashing with fear at what almost happened between them. “Thank you, Cullen. I’ll– I’ll call you.”

She took Greer’s hand in hers and pulled him into the apartment. The door shut on Cullen with a soft click.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

~

             “You kissed him,” Lexie gasped.

            The two were curled up under a large blanket on Rory’s blue couch. Lexie brought over Antivan and three bottles of wine. Greer saw himself out, needing only a look from Lexie to know he was dismissed. After a short cry on Rory’s part, they sat down and ate.

            “I didn’t. No. No, there was no kissing. But…there almost was. He leaned in and I leaned in and…and then Greer showed up. Maker, Lexie if he wouldn’t have shown up,” she trailed off, biting the pad of her thumb. “He’s engaged. Celia is actually really nice. They helped me. That’s all he did. Maybe that’s why I nearly kissed him. What is that, white knight syndrome? You fall in love with your rescuer.”

            Lexie shook her head and picked up a bottle. “No, that’s not what happened here.” She took a swig and then continued. “You like him. And he likes you.”

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            Rory’s face scrunched up and her eyes started to sting. “I can’t like him. It’s not an option. I’m not going to be what ruins them. He’s a good man, Lexie.”

            “Good men aren’t tempted, Rory.”

            “That’s not fair.”

            “It’s not. Unless things aren’t going great with he and Celia. But even then. Rory, you don’t want someone who will fall in love with another person.”

            “Are you trying to make me feel better or talk me out of my feelings?”

            “Both. Maybe he wasn’t going to kiss you. You could have misread the situation.”

            Rory nodded and took the wine from her blonde friend. That’s what happened then: she misread the situation. Just because she wanted to kiss him at that moment, didn’t mean he wanted to kiss her. Cullen was happily engaged to Celia and that was most certainly what he was going to tell her in the hallway. She would apologize to him then; tell him it was a mistake. They should have a coffee date and she would explain what happened.  

            “Liking a taken man isn’t the end of the world, Rory. It happens. More than you would think. But you aren’t the kind of girl that goes after them. I am, but you aren’t.”

            Rory laughed and put her head on Lexi’s shoulder. “You are not.”

            “Nah, I guess not. I just break their hearts.”

            “You should call Rylen,” Rory whispered. “He likes you.”

            “I know he does. That’s the problem.”

            “How is that a problem?”

            “I don’t do commitment, Rory.”

            Rory held Lexi’s hand and sighed. They were quiet for a few moments, the thunder outside rolling, the movie reaching its climax.

            “Not everyone will hurt you, Lex. Rylen won’t hurt you.”

            “That’s what Eric said. And look where I wound up.” Lexie dropped her head to Rory’s. “I’m not willing to risk that again. No matter how much I like Rylen.”

            Rory smiled at the small victory and snuggled in closer to Lexie. “Let’s just marry each other.”

            “Anything for you, darling.”

~

            The day after, Rory invited Cullen for coffee on her lunch break. She gave him the time and place she would be having lunch and asked if he would meet her. No loss if he couldn’t. That morning she did her best to cover the bruises on her face. From the looks she got on the train, she didn’t hide them well. She felt assaulted all over again. She dodged questions at work, telling everyone she slipped in the rain and fell down her building steps. They bought it, for the most part, most people content to just let it lie.

            Rory threw herself back into her work and tried to keep her thoughts from turning to the awkward conversation she would soon be having with Cullen. For the first two hours, she constantly checked the clock. Until Lexie moved it so she couldn’t anymore without being obvious about it. Maybe she was making a bigger deal out of it than she needed to. That was a very real possibility, yet there she was. Stressing over a misunderstanding. Which is what it was. A misunderstanding.

            Lexie handed her her purse before she left. “You will be fine. Go have coffee with the pretty man and continue being friends.”

            Cullen was already at the restaurant when she arrived, a cup of coffee and a cookie in front of him. He smiled and waved when she approached. She smiled back and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

            “How are you, Cullen? Your leg feeling any better today?” She sat across from him and set her purse on the chair between them.

            He nodded and toyed with the rim of his cup. “It’s okay so far. Still aches, but what else is new?”

            Rory nodded and rested her elbows on the table. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. In the hallway. Almost kissing you. I just…It didn’t mean anything. I was really vulnerable and I tend to make stupid decisions when I’m like that,” she chuckled nervously.

            Cullen blinked and put his hands under the table. “Oh. Yeah, of course. No need to apologize, Rory. Really.”

            Hazel eyes looked from the empty plate in front of her. “Really really?”

            Cullen nodded with a smile and shrugged. “It happens, Rory. I hope you won’t let that come between us? I’d…I’d still really like to be friends.”

            “Friends,” she smiled, “Definitely still friends.”


End file.
